The Tomoeda Arcana
by Arabidopsis
Summary: On the eve of his departure to England, Eriol receives a visitor who asks him to stay. (Ultimately ExT, you have been warned.)
1. Prologue

**Summary:** _On the eve of his departure to England, Eriol receives a visitor who asks him to stay. (An ongoing, if I take my motivational pills. Plenty of ExT interactions so stay away if that stuff makes you mad.)_

**Disclaimer:** _CCS be not mine, it be CLAMP's. Duh._

**The Tomoeda Arcana**

**Prologue**

Shadows cowered against the walls, banished there by the reading lamp that stood sentinel on Eriol's desk. Eriol hunched over the desk, regarding the two-thousand-page book that bathed in the pool of light. It's tissue thin leaves crackled as he flicked through them. He bit his lip as he drew his finger down a column of densely packed text. He paused at a promising looking entry and then copied the information into his notepad.

"Aren't great and powerful sorcerers suppose to write with quills?" said a voice just above his shoulder.

Eriol kept on writing. "Biros aren't likely to leak ink all over my page and hands, and they don't tickle my nose." Eriol turned towards the voice. "Good evening, Nadeshiko-san."

Nadeshiko reached out and ruffled Eriol's hair, folded her wings and floated to the desk. She perched herself on top of a stack of papers and fiddled with the Hello Kitty pencil holder that Nakuru had given Eriol for his birthday. She tilted her head and peered at the book on the table.

"Is this book a long lost diary of some powerful and mysterious mage, detailing his dangerous experiments and wondrous discoveries into the forbidden realm of magic?" Nadeshiko whispered in wonder. She pointed to the tiny, black script, "Does this describe a spell one could use to call forth elementals and bind them to your will? And this picture, surely it is some hideous monster birthed from the spell caster's imagination." Nadeshiko looked up with wide eyes, "Eriol-kun, why would you study such a terrible thing?"

"It's the London phonebook."

"Oh," Nadeshiko slumped in disappointment.

"That hideous monster is actually a removalist's truck."

"From here it looks like a monster. See, this is its tail; and there are three eyes, here, here and here; and its got sharp fangs over here..."

"It's a truck, Nadeshiko-san." Nadeshiko moved her head from side to side, trying to trick her eyes into seeing a truck.

Eriol looked at all the notes he had made. "We leave for England in the morning and I've still got so much to do. I have to arrange transport from Heathrow Airport; accommodation while the estate is cleaned, new furniture for the estate. Nakuru will demand a whole new wardrobe; you can't wear Japanese clothes in England apparently, though I can't tell the difference."

He was dimly aware that Nadeshiko had turned her attention away from the phonebook and was now staring vacantly in her lap at Hello Kitty. Hello Kitty stared vacantly back.

"I'll have to find someone willing to sell and deliver sugar by the truckload," Eriol continued, filling Nadeshiko's silences. "I'm really excited about going back to England."

Eriol looked up. He had expected Nadeshiko to be as happy as he was; instead, she sat, sullen, on his stack of papers, fingering the ears of Hello Kitty. Her wings drooped, just like the corners of her mouth; Nadeshiko gave a little sigh.

"You didn't come to hear my plans for England, did you?"

Nadeshiko slowly shook her head.

"Then why did you visit?"

Nadeshiko's bowed her head further; her hair fell forward and became a curtain, covering her face. In a small voice she said, "You have to stay."

Eriol blinked in surprise. "Stay where?"

"Stay here, in Tomoeda." Eriol noticed that she was gripping Hello Kitty tightly, her knuckles white around the ceramic kitten's neck.

"Why?" Eriol wished Nadeshiko would just say what she wanted to say; the message was making her very anxious. Instead he had to drag the information out of her.

Nadeshiko sighed and flicked her wings, "Because there are forces that wish to trap her. And you are the only person who can hold her to life."

"Her? Sakura? Something plans to harm Sakura-san?"

"Tomoyo-chan."

"Daidouji-san is going to hurt Sakura?" That didn't make any sense; Tomoyo would rather hurt herself than cause any harm to Sakura.

"No. Something between the worlds wants to hurt Tomoyo-chan." Nadeshiko spoke slowly, giving each word weight; Eriol had to understand. "Tomoyo-chan is the reason you can't leave for England."

"Daidouji?" Eriol was incredulous. "You want me to stay in Tomoeda for _Daidouji_? This whole visit was for Daidouji?"

Nadeshiko's head shot up, sending a ripple through her hair. "This is important Eriol. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Eriol went cold, "You expect me to put my life on hold for a person I barely know, a person I have barely spoken to."

She dropped her gaze back to Hello Kitty. "I knew you'd react this way."

"Then why did you ask me?"

"Because you're the only one I could ask, the only one who could help. And because I hoped I was wrong and that you'd agree anyway, because of what she means to me, and my cousin, and Sakura." Nadeshiko wasn't pleading, but she did sound wistful.

Eriol had an idea that could get him out of this request. "Sakura-san!" he cried in relief. "Sakura-san can help her. She is Daidouji-san's best friend and she is the Mistress of the Sakura Cards, a powerful magician in her own right. Sakura-san can save Daidouji from these dark forces," he said eagerly, trying to convince himself as much as Nadeshiko.

"They have already taken measures to remove Sakura from the picture." Then Nadeshiko whispered to herself, "And Sakura, like me, may be part of the problem."

Nadeshiko seemed certain that something was threatening Daidouji and that he was the only one who could help. Perhaps if he showed Nadeshiko that there wasn't any danger. After all he, reincarnation of Clow Read, had not detected any malevolent forces lurking around Tomoeda, let alone Tomoyo.

"Are you sure Daidouji-san's in danger? Why would the beings of the other worlds be interested in her; she has no magic."

"It is not for me to say."

Eriol was annoyed; spirits tended to tell only half of the story, but he thought Nadeshiko was different, that she could tell him anything. Nadeshiko was really making this difficult. "Then maybe you're wrong. Maybe there are no dark forces out to get Daidouji. Maybe you're imagining all this," Eriol hissed.

Nadeshiko seemed equally exasperated. "Then let me show you," she said. She snatched Eriol's wrist and swept her wings open, her hair a nimbus around her face. She spread her essence outward and literally lit up the room. The empty bookshelves and dormant fireplace were clearly illuminated; Eriol's study was a pocket of day in the dark cloak of night. The light got brighter and brighter till Eriol's eyes could stand no more and they shut themselves in surrender.

A change in the soundscape caused Eriol to open his eyes. He was in the middle of a wheat field, a sea of gold that stretched to every horizon. Eriol knew at once that Nadeshiko had sent him to the astral plane.

The astral plane allows those with the knowledge to view those forces hidden from the material plane, or travel between worlds. Everyone perceives the astral plane in a different way: some see it as a desert of silver sand, others a vast mountain range, while some might perceive it as a city. Eriol always perceived it as a wheat field, just before the harvest.

Eriol turned slowly around; Nadeshiko was nowhere to be seen. He stayed still, refusing to heed the siren song of the other worlds. He reached out a hand and gently brushed the ears of wheat, sending them into a dance against his leg.

Eriol looked up suddenly. He could have sworn he had seen something, a black patch at the corner of his eye, a quick and subtle movement. He strained his eyes to the horizon.

"You saw it, didn't you?" Nadeshiko's voice whispered into his ear. Eriol was aware of a faint pressure around his wrist, as if someone was holding it.

"I saw something. Or I think I did." Eriol kept searching the horizon, trying for another glimpse.

"That was it. You won't see it if you look for it. You have to look at something else, and let it accidentally stray into your vision."

Eriol tried that; he dropped his gaze to his feet but kept watch on his peripheral vision. "What is it?" he whispered.

"That is what you're up against. It sticks to the shadows and steals the light. It won't directly challenge you; it is sneaky in its manipulations."

"Some people say that about me." Eriol patiently waited for another sight of the creature.

"That is why you're ideal for the job." Nadeshiko's voice couldn't hide the smirk.

Then he saw it; just for a moment but it was enough for the sight to imprint itself on his memory. Keeping with the wheat field theme, it took the form of a scarecrow: stick thin and dressed in rags of shadow. He could feel the nature of this thing, its cold malevolence. It orbited just out of reach, a scavenger on the borders of existence

"How did you know of this, Nadeshiko?"

Nadeshiko considered her response, but in the end she just said, "I cannot say." Eriol had to be content with that.

"Close your eyes." Eriol did as he was told. He felt a gentle tug on his wrist and had a sensation of falling forward. When he opened his eyes he found himself back in his study, Nadeshiko was still perched on the desk, her wings mantled above her.

"Now do you see what she's up against? No one can stand alone against something like that."

Eriol remained silent. He was torn; torn between his responsibility as someone with power to protect those without, and his chance at a normal life with the people, creatures in Spinel's case, that he loved. To grant Nadeshiko's request would have to put his life on hold, again.

Nadeshiko watched him warily, giving him time to think things through.

"I guess," Eriol said hesitantly, "that I should tell Spinel and Nakuru to unpack; we'll be staying in Tomoeda for now."

Nadeshiko was a swirl of light and feathers as she rushed to give Eriol a kiss. "You have a good heart, Eriol-kun," she said tenderly and faded from the room; she could tell Eriol wanted to be alone.

Eriol closed the phonebook with a thump and pushed it to the side. He tore up all the notes he had painstakingly made; he tossed the pieces into the air where they turned into dragonflies and then vanished, just like all his plans and dreams. He slumped against his chair but his eyes strayed to Hello Kitty, who cheerfully waved, instead of a pen, a snowy white feather.

**AN:** _Congratulations, you made it this far. Here's a gold star for your patience. I should mention that I'll be using the manga as the reference material since I have never seen the anime. Okay, I saw the first season of the Nelvana version but that doesn't count. I apologize if they seem out of character. As for negative comments: Flame On!_


	2. The Fool

**AN:** _Motivation pill: take one daily._

**Disclaimer:** _CLAMP owns the house of Card Captor Sakura. I just sneak in to eat the food and jump on the bed. _

**The Tomoeda Arcana**

**Chapter One: The Fool**

The watcher stood on stage, partially eclipsed by a cardboard moon. Choir students milled around him, a chaotic army dressed in little white capes and black berets. The watcher's gaze had settled on one particular choir student.

She stood in the middle of the stage, not at all upset or concerned that she had lost the competition. Her hair fell to her waist in an inky dark waterfall. Her head was tilted to the side as she devoted all of her attention to her companion, a girl whose short brown hair curled softly around her chin. The watcher's girl was smiling sweetly; her companion's attitude, however, was quite the opposite.

"I can't believe you didn't win, Tomoyo-chan," the watcher heard the other girl say. "You're a better singer than anyone here."

Tomoyo didn't agree with that. "There are many talented people here, Rika-chan. Some are even better than me." She reached out and touched Rika's arm, as if Rika was the one who lost the competition and needed reassurance. "I was delighted just to be able to compete."

"But for that judge," Rika said 'judge' in the same way others would say 'cockroach' or 'tax collector'. "For that judge to say that your voice lacked feeling." Rika took a deep breath and fought to keep her anger under control. She lost the fight. "He's an idiot. He's a complete, no-talent idiot." Rika's voice grew louder. "His ears are probably full of…" She paused while her mind searched for a suitably nasty word. "Cabbages," she came up with. "He's got cabbages in his ears. Stupid – "

"I didn't know you could fit an entire cabbage into someone's ear, Sasaki." Rika whirled around. Terada-sensei stood before the two girls.

Rika flushed pink and tried to pull her head completely into her jacket. "How much did you hear?" she asked in a small voice.

"Everything from 'idiot' onwards, but I think the whole auditorium heard the cabbages remark." Rika left pink and started to blush her way through the red spectrum.

Tomoyo came to her rescue. "Did you enjoy the competition, Terada-sensei?"

"Very much, Daidouji. Though I think you should have won; Sasaki's right, the judge is an idiot."

"I wouldn't say that I should have won," Tomoyo said modestly.

"I think I can find someone else to agree with me," Terada-sensei looked around the stage. He muttered to himself, "I asked him to meet me here after the show…"

"Who are you looking for sensei?" asked Rika curiously.

"Your classmate. I was talking with him before the competition started. I need to give his this week's homework."

"He?" inquired Rika. "Yamazaki-kun had to see his grandparents this weekend."

"No, not Yamazaki," said Terada-sensei vaguely.

"You can't mean Li-kun. He should be packing for his trip to Hong Kong," said Tomoyo.

"I hope he's finished packing by now, I heard he's flight to Hong Kong leaves at ten." Terada-sensei gave up his search for the missing student and turned back towards the girls.

Tomoyo was struck by what Terada-sensei had just said. "That's ten o'clock at night, right?"

"No, ten o'clock in the morning. This morning," said Terada-sensei.

Tomoyo stared at the clock near the stage exit. "But that's only an hour away."

"That's why I hope he's finished packing," chuckled Terada-sensei.

"Is there anything wrong, Tomoyo-chan?" said Rika, who had noted the dismay on her friend's face.

"I'm fine." Tomoyo drew out her mobile phone. "Please excuse me; I just have to make a phone call."

Tomoyo quickly stepped away from the bemused pair and hit the speed dial. She nervously fidgeted with her fingers as she pressed the phone to her ear. "Pick up, pick up the phone," she muttered, shifting her weight slightly from one foot to the other.

The watcher left the shadow of the moon and began to walk towards her.

"Sakura," Tomoyo said in relief when her friend answered. "It's me, Tomoyo."

The watcher was right beside Tomoyo as she launched straight into her reason for calling. "Terada-sensei came to the Chorus Competition…" she took a deep breath before rushing on, "and he told me something I think you should know! Li is leaving for Hong Kong on a ten o'clock flight."

She listened attentively to the phone, but then she finally decided that enough was enough. "Pull yourself together Sakura!" she said sternly. "You'll make it in time! You have your invincible spell." The last part was said with reassurance tinged with hope.

That apparently did the trick. Tomoyo was left holding a silent phone; she held it to her heart and smiled.

The watcher stepped in front of her and said, "She's right you know: she will be all right."

Tomoyo looked up and dropped the phone.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo gently clasped her phone. She hoped Sakura would reach Syaoran in time, that she'd be able to tell him how she really felt. Tomoyo smiled to herself; Sakura would make it, Sakura could do anything if she wanted to.

"She's right, you know: she will be all right."

The voice startled her. She looked up swiftly and there he was, silky black hair falling into kingfisher blue eyes. His glasses flashed in the spotlight, and Tomoyo had to blink away the dazzle. Hiiragizawa Eriol gave her one of his trademark smiles.

Tomoyo's hands lost their grip on her phone; it hit the floorboards and cracked into shards of plastic and LCD screen.

Eriol immediately dropped to the floor to pick up the pieces. Tomoyo, a slave to her polite personality, knelt down to help.

"Shouldn't you be in England?" Tomoyo could only ask. The news of Syaoran's imminent departure was enough shock for one day, Eriol's sudden reappearance was more than her nerves could handle.

"I just had to hear you sing," said Eriol smoothly.

Tomoyo frowned at a piece of keypad; if Eriol was trying to be charming then he was hiding something. He only ever gave a straight answer when he was gloating; explaining to the masses how they were pawns in some elaborate game he had masterminded.

They stood up in unison, Tomoyo held out her hand for the other phone pieces and Eriol gently dropped them into her palm.

They stared at each other for a heart beat. Tomoyo searched her mind for something to say. Her relationship with Eriol had never been one of easy and comfortable camaraderie. She was about to ask why he was really here when Terada-sensei appeared.

"There you are Hiiragizawa. I was beginning to think you'd try to avoid your homework assignments," said the teacher. He turned to Tomoyo and said, "At least one of your friends managed to make it, Daidouji."

Tomoyo opened her mouth to say that she and Eriol weren't really friends but Terada-sensei had already turned back to Eriol.

"Were you pleased with the result of the competition Hiiragizawa? Or do you believe that Daidouji was robbed of victory?"

"The judges obviously don't know what they're talking about, especially that last one. His ears must be clogged with something."

"I've heard cabbages."

"That would explain it."

Tomoyo allowed their conversation to flow around her. She was mentally rerunning everything Terada-sensei had said today. He had talked to a student before the competition; he had just heard that Li-kun would be leaving at ten...

Terada-sensei began to include Tomoyo in the conversation. "Hiiragizawa has decided to postpone his transfer back to England. He'll be attending school tomorrow."

Tomoyo nodded politely; her mind was busy putting pieces into place, making connections.

Terada-sensei looked at his watch and said, "It's a good thing you're here, Daidouji. I have to be in a staff meeting right now so I won't be able to give Hiiragizawa his homework assignments. Would you be able to bring him up to speed?" She nodded again.

"Now that that's sorted, I better go. See you in class tomorrow," Terada-sensei walked off. Tomoyo noticed that her fellow choir students had disappeared; she and Eriol were all alone on the stage.

Tomoyo stared at Eriol. "You talked to Terada-sensei before the competition?" She knew what the answer would be.

"We spoke briefly; yes." He had plastered that all-knowing smile across his face.

"And during that time you told him that Li-kun's flight was at ten o'clock?"

"It may have come up in conversation." She bet it did.

"How did you know when Li was leaving?" Tomoyo demanded. She held up a hand. "Don't bother to answer that, it probably involves magic." She changed tack. "Why did you wait until practically the last minute for someone to tell me? Why didn't you tell me before the competition? Why didn't you tell Sakura yourself?"

"I didn't think Sakura would be interested in Syaoran's comings and goings."

Tomoyo stepped towards him, till they were face to face. "Liar," she accused. "You know exactly how much he means to Sakura, how much she means to him, how much they mean to each other." She reached out and grabbed his collar. "Why did you not tell you tell her?"

Eriol's smile never faltered. "I wanted to see, Daidouji-san, if you would be able to tell her."

Tomoyo let go of his collar and took a step back. "Me?" Tomoyo was incredulous. "You wanted to see if I would tell her? This was some sort of test?"

Eriol shrugged.

Tomoyo slapped him.

She slapped that silly smirk right of his face.

"How dare you assume that I would jeopardize Sakura's happiness, that I would put my wishes before her wishes!" she shouted. "She will be completely heartbroken if she doesn't reach him in time, Hiiragizawa! HOW DARE YOU RISK THAT!" She regarded him with fury in her eyes. She turned on her heel and stalked off the stage.

She had almost left the stage when Eriol called out, "She gave him the bear. He named it Sakura."

Tomoyo stopped as his words hit her. She felt a spark of complete joy, but it was extinguished by the sullen rage that erupted at the thought that Eriol had endangered Sakura's happy ending.

She kept on walking.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo allowed her bodyguards to shepherd her through the front door. They fanned out and checked all the connecting rooms, mumbling into their wrists as they went. Only when they nodded to her that everything was okay and had left her alone in the entrance did Tomoyo relax.

She seethed at Eriol as she slipped off her shoes and hung up her coat. His meddling could have easily resulted in two hearts divided not only by distance but also by things left unsaid. She winced as she grasped her beret and pulled it off; broken pieces of mobile phone had cut into her palm when she clenched her fists as she was yelling at Eriol.

A part of her felt guilty for striking him. No matter what she felt she had no right to hurt another person. But his actions could have hurt Sakura…

Tomoyo walked into the sitting room and all thoughts of Eriol's interference in Sakura's happiness fled to the back of her mind.

Her mother sat on one of the armchairs, her elbow resting on the armrest, her hand cupping her chin. Sonomi Daidouji stared vacantly through the bay window, apparently not seeing the landscaped garden that basked in the midday sun. She glanced toward the doorway when she heard Tomoyo pad into the room.

"This came for you today." Sonomi gestured towards the coffee table at her feet. On the polished mahogany surface, as far from Sonomi as was possible without being on the floor, was a package wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with string.

"For me?" Tomoyo wondered, "Who is it from?" She reached for the parcel.

Sonomi turned back to the window. "Your father." Her voice gave away nothing.

Tomoyo's hand stalled, she flicked a look at her mother. Sonomi was a marble statue: she was as still as a statue, as stiff as a statue and as emotional as a statue.

Sonomi never spoke about Tomoyo's father. When asked, all she would ever say was that he had given her a name and he had given her a child but he had taken much in exchange. She would then change the subject. Tomoyo had long given up trying to extract any information from the memory vault of Sonomi. Tomoyo didn't even know her father's first name.

Tomoyo picked up the parcel; she had never received a gift from her father before. For an object that was the cause of so much tension it was surprisingly light. Tomoyo sat down on the other armchair and carefully picked away at the knot. Sonomi watched all of Tomoyo's movements from the corner of her eye.

Once the paper was peeled back, it revealed a wooden box. It was the size and shape of a jewelry box, the top edges were beveled slightly and it was hinged on one of the longer sides. For some reason it reminded Tomoyo of the Clow Book.

"Is there anything inside?" Sonomi demanded.

Tomoyo opened the box. "No. Nothing."

"Not even a note? A card?" Maybe it was her imagination, but Tomoyo thought there was a note of panic in her mother's voice.

Tomoyo flicked through the wrapping, making sure she didn't drop anything. "No, there's just the box." Tomoyo was a bit disappointed; a simple box was paltry against all her father's years of inattention.

Sonomi sat there for a moment, her fingernails lightly scratching at the chair's upholstery. She stood up. "I have some calls to make," she said as she swept out of the room.

Tomoyo carefully folded the wrapping paper and placed it to on the table. She idly twined the string around her fingers as she stared at the box in her lap. A shadow of herself was reflected in the glossy surface. She traced a finger along an edge; it was just a simple box.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The setting sun dyed the walls of the Hiiragizawa mansion a rich orange. The evening breeze waltzed amongst the dozens of blossoms that enriched the home's gardens. Perched in the elegant fruit trees, birds sang to the closing of the day.

But inside the Hiiragizawa mansion it was all dimness and gloom and depression.

Eriol was brooding in his armchair, the high-backed one that looked as if it belonged to a judge or some theater critic.

Spinel was on the window ledge, listlessly reading a book.

Nakuru was sprawled on the staircase, asleep, with a bit of drool oozing from the corner of his mouth.

Spinel stretched his butterfly wings and examined Eriol. "You had a pleasant time at the concert today?"

"It was a chorus competition, not a concert."

"But singing was involved, yes?"

Eriol nodded.

"Ruby Moon says Daidouji-san has a wonderful voice."

"It can be pleasant to listen to." Even when it was raised in anger, Eriol couldn't help but think.

The conversation stalled.

"It didn't go well, did it?" stated Spinel.

Eriol tucked his hands under his chin. "It could have gone better."

"What went wrong, Master?" said Spinel as he fluttered over.

"She did." Eriol unconsciously rubbed his cheek.

Spinel sighed. "If I remember, I did advise you not to take this… approach."

"I had to be sure, Spinel. Sure that Daidouji had given up any hopes she had for Sakura."

"And it would have made your job so much easier." Eriol started to protest but Spinel stopped him with a raised paw. "You thought that Daidouji would be so brokenhearted over Sakura that she'd be easy to manipulate. All you'd have to do is just step in and provide a shoulder to cry on and instant friendship." Spinel butted his head against Eriol's shoulder. "But trust has to be earned, Eriol-sama. Your 'test' caused her to lose faith in you. It will not be so easy to earn back Daidouji's confidence."

"How am I suppose to help her then? Something is out to get her and apparently I'm the only one who can stop it. Why does she have to be so difficult? Sakura was never like this. Sakura trusted me from the start."

"You and Sakura-san have a special affinity, you share a bond of magic. Sakura couldn't help but respond to you. And it helped that you are the soul-twin of her father." Eriol smiled at that.

Spinel continued, "Daidouji-san has no magic, she can only rely on what her heart and mind tell her."

Eriol curled his finger around Spinel's tail.

Spinel placed a paw on Eriol's chin. "Do you regret your decision to stay?"

Eriol's thoughts raced back to yesterday morning, to the last possible moment that he could have backed out of this predicament, but didn't.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The airport lounge was predictably packed. Businessmen lounged in the courtesy seats, leafing through newspapers. Tourists sorted through their numerous bags, double-checking their documents, cameras and itineraries.

Eriol's eyes were drawn to the observation window: a family, a mother and father with two children, were saying their goodbyes. The father carried a toddler in his arms while the other child, a girl about five or six, had wrapped her arms completely around her mother's legs. Eriol's smile was bittersweet at the scene; he wondered what it would be like to be apart of a family. Sure, Clow Read had had a family, parents and numerous aunts, uncles and cousins on both sides. But he, Hiiragizawa Eriol had no such people; in this life he was alone.

"This is so boring. What's taking them so long? They said they would be boarding in five minutes, and that was fifteen minutes ago." Nakuru whined and danced around.

Okay, maybe not all alone.

"There's no rush, Nakuru. We don't have to be anywhere else," said Eriol calmly.

Nakuru huffed in disappointment. In an effort to match his clothes with the location, he had dressed himself like a stewardess – or weren't they called airline attendants now. But Nakuru had to give his own slant to the uniform. The result was an outfit made of sky blue material that was printed with white clouds, with plenty of shiny butterfly-shaped buttons, a skirt that was too short and heels that were too high. A pilot's hat completed the ensemble.

Spinel was currently curled up asleep on top of said hat. He would have normally traveled in a handbag, but Nakuru was adamant that 'stewardesses do not carry handbags'. Spinel was just as adamant about 'not staying at home while a certain idiot gets Eriol-sama into trouble'. Eriol had been forced to cast an attention redirection spell, just so everyone could be happy and they could get to the airport on time. He only wished that the spell worked on him, so that he wouldn't have to listen to Spinel's snoring or Nakuru's whining.

"We do have to be somewhere else," Nakuru whinged. "We have to be with To-ya." He hugged Eriol from behind and said brightly, "He will be so happy when we tell him that we're staying; that his little Kuruu-chan would never leave him." Nakuru reverted back to sulk mode. "Mizuki-sensei can get on the plane by herself." He looked over Eriol's shoulder. "Can't you Mizuki-sensei?"

"We're staying, Nakuru," Eriol said finally.

"It's not like she can get lost from here to the plane," Nakuru exploded. "It's barely fifty meters."

"Nakuru," Eriol warned.

"There's signs and stuff. She can read, can't she?"

"That's enough, Nakuru."

"Aww." Nakuru gave up and flounced off to annoy a group of backpackers, from their voices a group of male backpackers. Spinel swayed a bit on top of Nakuru's head but miraculously managed to stay on.

Eriol turned back to Kaho. "Sorry about that. When I made them I think Spinel got Nakuru's share of patience."

"I understand," Kaho smiled reassuringly. "I'm a teacher, I deal with students like Akizuki all the time."

Kaho reached out and enveloped Eriol in a hug. The noise of the waiting lounge clattered around them, but between them there was only silence.

"I really wish you could stay," said Eriol wistfully.

"I really wish you would come with me. You can still change your mind. You could enchant the attendants into giving you a seat, get us upgraded to first class. Akizuki can take a later flight."

Eriol seriously considered what Kaho was suggesting, though he frowned slightly at Kaho's casual attitude to the misuse of magic. It would be so easy to hop on a flight to London and forget about Daidouji Tomoyo. But his sense of duty kicked that thought to the side.

"It's important that I stay in Tomoeda."

"And I have to get back to my studies." Kaho placed a finger under Eriol's chin and tilted his head upwards. "You're doing a good thing here, Eriol. Few people would give up so much for someone who meant so little to them."

Eriol nodded and slipped from her embrace.

"You'll probably join me in England within the week anyway. Dreams can often give false or misleading information, and you're not able to see the future anymore." Eriol mentally flinched. He hadn't lied to Kaho about where this sudden requirement to help Daidouji had come from; Kaho just assumed that he received the information in a prophetic vision and he didn't tell her otherwise. He preferred to keep Nadeshiko's visits private.

Kaho continued, unaware of Eriol's uneasiness, "I find it hard to believe that anyone would be interested in Daidouji Tomoyo, she has no magic at all."

"That's what I think."

"See, it will probably turn out to be nothing. And then you can join me in England, and we can start our life together." Kaho went all starry-eyed. "Imagine Eriol, the two of us studying magic…"

Eriol tuned out. He hated it when Kaho thought this way; devoting yet another lifetime to magic made him shudder. He wished that she would one day see that what he wanted was a normal life, one that didn't revolve around magic.

Kaho was still prattling on, "We'll rediscover the forgotten knowledge of the ancient seers. We'll gain immense power–" She was mercifully cut short by the intercom.

"Would all passengers for flight BA891 to London please make their way to Gate 62. Thank you," blared the speaker.

Nakuru jumped from seemingly nowhere and landed between Eriol and Kaho. "Can we go now?" he pointedly asked Eriol

"I better get in line," Kaho said tactfully.

Nakuru flapped his hand over his shoulder. "Bye-bye." Spinel, still asleep on Nakuru's hat, twitched his tail in what could have been wave.

Eriol stepped around the pair of them. "Safe trip, Kaho."

"I'll see you soon." Kaho walked towards the line, she looked back and added, "In London." Eriol waved.

"_Now _can we go?" Nakuru didn't hold much hope that he'd get the answer that he was fishing for.

"We have to watch the plane take off."

"What? Awww." Nakuru trudged towards the window. Eriol noticed that the backpackers Nakuru had been just annoying were at the front of the queue, fighting to be the first on the plane. Once Kaho had disappeared through the glass doors Eriol went and joined his guardians.

The plane was a hunched white monstrosity on the tarmac; Eriol didn't approve. Things of the air should reflect their element and be all graceful lines and liquid form; like his guardians.

He imagined that he could see Kaho waving from one of the windows, the one just under the A.

Eriol was aware that someone had stepped beside him. "Don't be sad," that person whispered, "you're mum will be home soon."

On his other side, Nakuru's shoulders started shaking with suppressed chuckles, and Spinel's last snore sounded suspiciously like a snort.

Eriol raised his hand in preparation to throw a fireball down the whisperer's throat. He turned to the side and found, staring up at him, a little girl. She was the same girl whose family he had been admiring minutes before.

"I miss my mum already too," the girl said sadly.

Eriol's sudden anger crumpled. He flicked his raised hand; instead of a raging ball of fire he conjured up a small toy sheep. The girl gave a small gasp of delight at this display.

"You miss her because you love her. I'm sure she misses you just as much," Eriol said as he handed her the sheep; her small hands gently clasped the soft fleece.

They stood side by side and watched the plane prepare to depart.

"I have to go now," she suddenly said and trotted off towards her father and brother.

Eriol watched the plane pull away, taking Kaho with it.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Once they had arrived home from the airport Eriol had ordered Nakuru and Spinel not to leave the mansion. Nakuru had whined and begged and finally, when he realized Eriol would not be swayed, sulked on the stairs, hampering anybody who wanted to go up or down. It was easy for Spinel who could simply fly over Nakuru, but Eriol had to clamber over, with much kicking and cursing and uttering of threats.

That had been yesterday; Nakuru hadn't moved from the stairs since.

"Well, Eriol-sama, do you regret your decision to stay?" Spinel was still waiting for an answer.

"Sometimes," he said honestly. He stroked the back of Spinel's neck. "But with you and Nakuru with me, I can bear the regret."

"I'm more inclined to think that the cross dresser would add to your burden," Spinel said wryly.

They heard a sneeze in the hallway. Suddenly a strident voice demanded, "And why couldn't I go to the concert today? To-ya could have taken me. That's another day without seeing To-ya, another day WASTED!" Nakuru had gone from sleep to verbal assault in a heartbeat.

"Maybe we could send him to England?" said a hopeful Spinel. "Or perhaps Mars?"

Eriol flicked Spinel's ears.

Nakuru was still shouting on the stairs. "I suppose I have to stay here tomorrow as well! NO SCHOOL FOR NAKURU, NO TO-YA FOR NAKURU, NO FUN FOR NAKURU!"

"School," Eriol said softly. Spinel cocked his head in a query.

"Homework," he replied, and smiled sheepishly.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The television monitor flickered ghost light across the room. Tomoyo sat tucked up in one corner of her couch, her legs curled up underneath her. She pressed the cordless phone to her ear and hoped that this time (it must be the twentieth) Sakura would pick up the phone. Tomoyo held her breath as the machine played the number down the line.

"Sorry, the number you have dialed is either switched off or not in service. Please try again later."

Tomoyo sighed. She placed the handset on the table beside her, on top of her notebooks and next to her new wooden box. Sakura's personal mobile, the mobile that Tomoyo had given her, had been playing that message for the past two hours. The Kinomoto phone had yielded a busy signal. Between dialings, Tomoyo had spent her time doing her homework and watching videos.

The video on at the moment featured Sakura capturing the Watery Card. Sakura sped down the corridor towards the camera, pursued by a jet of water.

"This is boring! Isn't there anything else on?"

Tomoyo's head snapped to the side. Curled up on the other end of the couch was a man. His black hair had been tied back but a few strands had escaped and now lay across his forehead. Rimless glasses shielded his cobalt blue eyes.

"Clow Reed?" Tomoyo was stunned.

"Kind of," the visitor winked, "but not quite." He had somehow managed to obtain a bag of popcorn, which he offered to Tomoyo. Tomoyo declined with a shake of her head. Not Quite Clow shrugged, lobbed some popcorn into the air, tossed his head back and caught it in his mouth.

Now that she had time for a second impression she could tell that this person was not Clow Reed; he wasn't dressed like Clow Reed. The person beside her was wearing a Joker costume. The costume was all silver and blue, the same shade of blue as his eyes. It had that three pointed hat that Jokers wore, complete with tiny silver bells on the ends. His shoes, in mismatched colours, were curled up at the toes and had additional bells on the tips. His tightly fitted jacket had sleeves that draped all the way to the floor, weighed down with yet more bells. Finally he wore some balloon shorts that ended mid-thigh, the rest of his legs were encased in checked stockings. Sakura would often complain about the outfits that Tomoyo would force her into but at least none of them were as bad as this. The man look ridiculous, and Clow would have never have allowed himself to look ridiculous.

Joker Clow continued wolfing down his popcorn. "Can't we at least watch it in fast-forward? That always makes things interesting."

On screen, Sakura ducked and weaved around the water apparition.

"Watch out little girl!" Joker Clow yelled while pointing at the screen. He laughed manically as Sakura was thrown to the side by a wall of water.

"Ha ha ha. Ho ho ho." He collapsed back onto the sofa. "That was so funny. Rewind, I want to see that again."

Tomoyo remained silent; he seemed quite capable of holding a conversation on his own.

"That flying yellow bear is so annoying." Joker Clow threw a cushion at a posturing Kero. "Smack him, little girl. Use your fancy stick and smack him good. Come on. Smack him." When he realized that Sakura was going to do no such thing he muttered, "Stupid little girl." Joker Clow calmed down enough to ask, "Who is that girl anyway?"

"My friend."

"Well I'm sick of her." He gestured to the shelves of tapes along the wall. "Put something else on. Something without the wand waving wacko." He stood up and yelled at the TV. "Not even smart enough to whack an annoying flying bear upside the head. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" He sat down on, crossed his legs and delicately arranged his balloon shorts. He faced Tomoyo. "I would now like to watch something else, please."

"I'm sorry, but they all feature Sakura-chan."

"What? All of them?" He leapt towards the shelves and started pacing in front of them, arms spinning. "There must be a hundred tapes here, they can't all be of the same thing. Who taped all this anyway?"

"I did."

He stopped. He looked at Tomoyo, then at the tapes, then back at Tomoyo. He pointing both fingers at her, he said bluntly, "You are so weird."

"There's nothing weird about taping your friends," she replied softly.

"Yes there is." Joker Clow threw out his arms and fell backwards onto the couch, his head landing on Tomoyo's leg. He turned towards the screen and sighed, "Guess we're stuck with this then." The monitor showed Sakura arguing with Kero-chan.

When it became obvious that Joker Clow would not be shifting anytime soon, Tomoyo reached for the phone in another attempt to contact Sakura. First she'd ask Sakura how she was feeling, and offer support and guidance: she must be very despondent about Syaoran's absence. When she had managed to cheer Sakura up, then, and only then, would Tomoyo tell her that a crazy version of Clow Reed had crashed on her couch.

She became aware that Joker Clow was talking to her. "If you taped this, then you were actually there when all that happened, right?" He gestured to the television.

"Yes." The same recorded-message as before played in her ear again.

"But how come you're never on film?"

"Because I'm the one doing the taping," Tomoyo said obviously.

"You could get one of the others to hold the camera." Joker Clow was insistent. "That flying fur-ball for instance, he doesn't seem to be doing anything useful anyway."

"But the video isn't about me, it's about Sakura-chan." Tomoyo allowed the hand holding the phone to drop to her side; she looked down at Joker Clow.

Joker Clow twisted his face upwards. "It's always about Sakura-chan," he said and rolled his eyes.

Tomoyo couldn't disagree. He was right, Sakura was the star; Tomoyo was just a satellite that orbited her, hungry for her light. But it wasn't like that now, Sakura didn't shine for Tomoyo anymore, she shone for Syaoran. She hadn't even called Tomoyo to tell her how everything had turned out.

They lapsed into silence. For a moment Tomoyo thought he might have fallen asleep.

"You don't have much of a life Tomoyo," he stated suddenly.

Tomoyo thought about that. Most people would say that she had a wonderful life: she was the heir to a fabulous fortune, she could buy whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, her mother allowed her to go anywhere, whether it be down the street or across the ocean; she had a life people only dreamed of. "I do have a life," she answered, "I have family and friends who love me very much, a happy and safe home, I do well in school, I have many hobbies and extracurricular activities–"

"Yes, yes," he interrupted. "You have all the trapping of life, the material things, the relationships, the activities." He sat up and twisted till he was facing her again. "But do you actually experience them, Tomoyo?" He brought his face close to hers, the silver bells chiming an accompaniment. " Do you live them?"

"Of course I do," she said defensively; for such small bells they seemed to make so much noise.

"Why do you videotape things in the first place?" he said, seemingly going off in a different direction.

That was easy, she was often asked this question. "So I have something to remember the moment by."

"But while you're taping the moment you're not experiencing it. You're too busy making sure you get everything in shot, that it's in focus, that the stupid lens cap is off. You're too busy focusing on the subject, not on yourself." He smirked in triumph. "I bet you can't even remember how you felt when you were filming that," and pointed towards the television.

"I…"

"You can't remember what you felt because you weren't feeling anything at all; you were too busy filming Sakura, watching Sakura."

Tomoyo tried to answer, but the bells were so loud, she couldn't hear herself think.

"Look at that, Tomoyo." She followed the line of his arm to an image of Sakura smiling at the camera. "It's of Sakura, every tape is of Sakura. You have Sakura's entire life on video. But where's your life Tomoyo? Is this your life?" His gesture encompassed the whole room, taking in the television, her video camera and the shelves of tapes. "Is Sakura's life your life?"

Tomoyo shut her eyes and tried to block out Joker Clow's mocking face, but she couldn't avoid the mocking tones of his voice, or those bells.

He placed his mouth close to her ear and hissed, "You have to borrow a life, Tomoyo, because you don't have one."

The phone rang. Out of pure reflex, Tomoyo's finger pressed the answer button.

"Sakura?" she pleaded.

"No, Daidouji-san," said the voice on the other end of the line. "It's me, Hiiragizawa,"

Something cracked in Tomoyo, she pushed it to the side.

Eriol continued, "I forgot to get our homework for tomorrow. Would you be able to tell me what we have to do?"

"Oh, of course." Tomoyo rummaged through the pile of notebooks on the desk. "Um, read chapters twenty-one and twenty-two for History, the problems at the back of chapter thirteen for math, the problems at the back of chapter thirty-seven for grammar, and review all the science stuff because we may or may not have a test."

"That's it?"

"Yes." She wished he would get off the line; Sakura might be trying to call right now.

"Is everything okay, Daidouji-san?"

"Yes, I'm fine, just a bit tired I guess."

"I better let you get some rest then."

"Yes, thank you." Tomoyo hit the disconnect button and placed the phone on the table.

She looked at the other end of the couch; her mysterious visitor was nowhere to be seen and in his place lay a piece of paper. Tomoyo reached out and picked it up; it looked to her like a Clow –Sakura now, really– card. It was the same long rectangular shape, but instead of the sun and moon seal on the back it was a cloudy white, like a fog filled glass. If she stared at it for long enough, it appeared as if the clouds were moving. And the border, well it seemed as if the card didn't have a border at all, as if it didn't have any edges. The card just bled into the air, like a cube of sugar dissolved into water.

Tomoyo turned it over and found her visitor staring up at her. He still looked exactly like Clow Read and he wore the same silly jester costume; he had a goofy grin on his face as he blithely stepped off a cliff. Tomoyo's eyes traveled down the length of the card; at the very bottom, stamped in silver, was written The Fool.

On impulse, Tomoyo picked up the box her father had given her and opened it on her lap. She placed the Fool Card inside.

It fit perfectly.

**AN:** _Just two things I'd like to mention._

_Nakuru: Whenever the narrative focuses on Eriol Nakuru will be referred to as a he, because that's how Eriol sees him. When the narrative shifts back to Tomoyo Nakuru will be referred to as a she, because that's how Tomoyo sees her. Confused? The line starts behind me. I guess I could go all Broderick and start using sem, ser and se but I think the additional set of pronouns would cause the computer to explode._

_Kaho: No, her plane did not crash in the Himalayas forcing her to shack up with the local yeti population. Nor is she doing time in a Singapore prison on charges of smuggling counterfeit Pokemon merchandise. She's safely in London studying whatever it is she's studying. That should reassure the Kaho fans out there, all nine of ya._


	3. The Judgment & The World

**Disclaimer: **_CLAMP owns the car that is Card Captor Sakura. I just 'borrow' it sometimes and turn donuts on their front lawn._

**The Tomoeda Arcana**

**Chapter Two: The Judgment & The World**

Tomoyo stepped softly into the music room, unwilling to disturb the silence that was found so rarely inside such a place. Usually the room would be full of voices: the fluid notes of song, the hushed rustling of whispers or the bright burst of laughter, but all of that had been replaced by the soft, velvet sounds of silence. To Tomoyo it seemed that the room wanted this one moment of quiet; afterwards it would allow her to make whatever noise she wanted. She considered it a fair exchange.

Tomoyo walked over to a desk and drew out a chair; she winced at the racket she made. She placed her bag on the floor and sat down to wait for Tsujitani-sensei. As she sat, her legs twined around the chair's legs, the outside world began to challenge the stillness of the music room: the trees waved their leaves from the window; the sound of students cheering and yelling drifted inside, their sharp edges dulled by distance and brick walls; the sun cascaded inside and painted stars on the metal stands and forgotten instruments.

Tsujitani-sensei had caught Tomoyo during the lunch break and asked to see Tomoyo after school. Tomoyo wanted to refuse, say she already had other plans, but her music teacher had looked so hassled and it didn't help that she was injured. Tsujitani-sensei had fractured her wrist while competing in her latest marathon; apparently she had collided with the refreshment stand. She now went around school wearing a fluro-green cast, dotted with best wishes and smiley faces. Tomoyo fingered the hem of her uniform; there was probably a lecture in store for her but at least that wouldn't take very long. She hoped it wasn't going to be an impromptu practice session but she couldn't rule it out: Tsujitani-sensei had not been pleased that Tomoyo had lost the competition.

The sound of ticking crept towards Tomoyo. She glanced at her watch and then double-checked it against the classroom clock. Her music teacher was late.

Tomoyo was never one to let time go to waste. She dropped a hand and felt inside her bag, she could tell which textbook was which from touch alone. Her fingers snagged slightly on the sharp corner of her science book, drifted past the clothbound cover of her sketchpad, she ran her fingers down the spiral spine of her math book. Where was the ragged cover and well-thumbed pages of her grammar book? She emptied her bag out on her desk, the dozen books and notebooks sliding in a heap; her fingers had been right, the grammar book wasn't there, she must have left it in her desk. She made a mental note to go back for it after this meeting.

If she couldn't do grammar then she may as well do her next favorite subject, math. She picked out the math exercise book and shunted the rest to the side. Something fell off the edge but she ignored it and turned to the latest set of problems. She dimly heard the sound of an alarm in the distance. Question one, she read, if a plane leaves Tokyo, departing for Hawaii, at nine o'clock in the morning…

She stopped reading. The mention of planes and leaving sent her thoughts speeding back to yesterday, the last time she saw Sakura.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo's feet knew their own way to Sakura's house; this allowed her brain to mull over other things. The events of last night seemed dreamlike now, as she walked along the suburban street. But then they had seemed dreamlike while she was living them, so it was unlikely they would seem real the following day. It begged the question that, if it felt like a dream, walked like a dream, talked like a dream then wasn't it a dream? Tomoyo would have easily dismissed it as such if it weren't for the cloud-backed card that was nestled in a plain wooden box that in turn sat like a brick at the bottom of her bag.

Most people would have written off that Fool visitor as a product of an overactive imagination, while the rest would believe and thus be scared out of their minds. But Tomoyo had seen some weird and fantastic creatures so she didn't think she had imagined the whole thing, and she didn't feel frightened because she knew someone who would help her.

Gravel crunched under Tomoyo's shoes as she made her way up the path, the sounds of the street fading behind her. She adjusted the strap of her school bag and lifted her other hand to press the doorbell of the Kinomoto residence.

Her finger was poised above the button when the front door flew open. Sakura's brother, Touya, appeared followed closely by his friend, Tsukishiro Yukito.

Tomoyo quickly stepped out of the way. Touya was rearranging the collar of his jacket and Yukito was inhaling a piece of pie. "Hello," she said.

Touya nodded a greeting and ducked his head back inside to shout down the hall, "Monster! Daidouji-san's here."

"Hello, Daidouji-san. Did you have a good day at school?" said Yukito around a mouthful of pastry, the flakes falling like snow down his front.

"Yes I did, thank you." Tomoyo frowned slightly and tilted her head. "But Sakura wasn't at school today. Is she all right?"

She noticed a quick glance flash between Touya and Yukito. "She's okay, she's upstairs right now." Yukito smiled reassuringly and gestured for her to go inside.

"We better go, Yuki," said Touya and stalked down the path. Yukito gave Tomoyo a small wave and followed him.

Tomoyo stepped through the doorway. The house appeared deserted, as if it contained only empty spaces.

"Hello," Tomoyo called into the void.

"Up here, Tomoyo-chan," fell a voice from up the stairs.

Tomoyo climbed the stairs, her hand sliding along the polished banister. In the upstairs hallway she had to scramble over a jumble of packed suitcases; it looked like Kinomoto-sensei was going on another trip. The sounds of an argument got louder and louder as she closed in on Sakura's room.

"Hello Sakura-chan, Kero-chan," she spoke brightly, alerting the pair to her presence, otherwise they would have kept on fighting.

"Tomoyo-chan!" Sakura rushed over, grabbed Tomoyo's hand and dragged her into the room. "Thank goodness you're here. Tell Kero that he can't bring all these video games to Sapporo."

On the bed lay a large suitcase crammed with video games. The packer hadn't even made an attempt at neatness; all the brightly colored boxes were arranged in a heap.

"I'm not bringing all of them. Just five or twenty." Kero had perched himself on top of his self-made mountain and glared, daring Sakura to shift him.

"There's more than twenty here, Kero," said Sakura as she swatted him out of the way. Kero did a tumble turn in the air and crashed into the mirror. Sakura began to fling the games over her shoulder. "You're not bringing any of them," she muttered.

Tomoyo had watched the whole scene with an indulgent smile. "Kero's going to Sapporo?"

"We're all going to Sapporo: me, Kero, Dad, Oniichan and even Yukito." Sakura had emptied the suitcase of all the video games; the vinyl bottom stared back at her. Apparently video games were the only things Kero had planned on bringing. Sakura rounded on Kero, "Where are all my clothes, Kero!" she shouted.

From the dresser, Kero raised a twitching arm and pointed at Sakura's feet. Sakura dropped to the floor and looked under the bed. The sight of all her clothes crammed between the floorboards and her bedsprings made her scream. "KERO!"

Tomoyo rescued Kero from a wreckage of clips and hair ribbons as Sakura continued her rant. Realizing that his mistress was not happy, the winged bear quickly regained his senses and jumped to the closest refuge, Tomoyo's shoulder.

"It took me all morning to pack this, Kero," she said, pulling shirts, skirts and socks from their hiding place. "Now I have to do it all over again." Sakura sat back on her heels and wailed.

Tomoyo placed a hand on Sakura's shoulder. "This time I'll be here to help you." She picked up a dress from the floor, carefully folded it and tucked the neat bundle into a corner of the suitcase. Sakura stopped her keening and gazed in wonder at her very own Angel of Packing. Kero peered out from under Tomoyo's curtain of hair to see if the storm had past.

"So, why are you going to Sapporo?" she said as she calmly folded a green turtleneck sweater. She idly noted that Sakura wasn't packing any of the clothes Tomoyo had made her, but then they were a bit flamboyant.

"We're only going to Sapporo for a day. Then we travel to Daisetsuzan National Park because Dad has to go on an archeological dig there." Sakura sat on the edge of her bed, content to let Tomoyo do the tricky activity of fitting the contents of a whole wardrobe into a suitcase. "A group of hikers stumbled on this temple, way up in the mountains. The university asked Dad to go down and check it out."

Kero decided that it was safe to come out; he fluttered onto the quilt. "They say there are bears in Daisetsuzan. I'll soon show them who's boss." He swaggered and did a bit of freestyle kickboxing.

"I'm sure the bears will be very scared, Kero-chan," Tomoyo said sedately. She gave Kero a warning look as he reached for 'Pokemon Crystal'. Smoothing out a crease in a cotton shirt, she asked, "So how long will you be gone? A week? Two?"

Sakura had stretched herself out on the bed and looked as if she was about to drop off into sleep; packing must have begun really early. "More like six," she murmured.

"Six weeks?" Tomoyo was stunned; six weeks would be the longest she would have ever gone without seeing Sakura. Oh well, it could be worse.

"Six months." It was worse.

Inside, Tomoyo was reeling, yet she retained her outward calm and asked, "But what about school?" She absentmindedly plucked Kero from the suitcase and removed the game he had taken the opportunity to hide from under Sakura's socks.

"Dad's going to tutor me and the school's given me assignments and stuff. That's why Oniichan and Yukito are out, they've gone to get my school books." Sakura adjusted the ribbon of the bear she had stood on her chest.

"Why are your brother and Tsukishiro-san going?" The suitcase was almost full now.

"The University will be giving them credit or experience or something for helping Dad." Sakura hugged the bear tightly against her and continued, "It was real short notice. But after, you know, everything with Syaoran and the cards, Dad thought it would be great for me to have a break. That's why I couldn't call yesterday, we had to make all these arrangements and start packing. And then Syaoran called and I had to ask him how he was, and then I had to tell him my news; by the time we were finished it was too late to call you," she finished apologetically.

Tomoyo looked over at her friend and smiled. "That's okay." She tucked Sakura's toiletries bag into the side and nestled two video games next to it; she winked at Kero. "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"I hope you have a good time." From Sakura's smile Tomoyo could tell that she was already having a good time, and she hadn't even left yet.

Sakura sat up in a rush. "That's enough about me, Tomoyo-chan," she decided. "What about you? Anything interesting happen to you lately?"

Tomoyo thought back to her late night visitor, she should tell Sakura and Kero about him, they knew all about all things magical. She reached inside her bag and closed her hand around the wooden box. As she drew it out she glanced at Sakura, she took in the beaming smile and excited face, the sparkling eyes.

"No, nothing really." She let go of the box and pulled out something else. "I almost forgot, I baked some cookies for you and Kero-chan."

Kero pounced like a ninja. "Tomoyo-chan, we should bring you to Daisetsuzan!"

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

But she wasn't going to Daisetsuzan; she was stuck here in the music room waiting for an increasingly late teacher. Right this moment Sakura was boarding a plane. Thanks to this meeting, Tomoyo hadn't even been able to say goodbye.

The pen clattered against the page as she slumped in her chair, any inclination of doing math homework lost. What was taking Tsujitani-sensei so long?

The door slid open and in rushed Tsujitani-sensei, complete with flustered demeanor and broken arm.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, Daidouji-san," she dumped a stack of sheet music on Tomoyo's desk. "I had to help out with in the Home Economics room. Who would have thought that desiccated coconut could catch fire so easily?" She turned a bright smile towards Tomoyo. "But that's all over now. We're here to discuss you."

"Yes, sensei," said Tomoyo as her teacher hooked a foot around a chair and drew it to the desk.

"You must have been very disappointed about not winning the competition on the weekend Daidouji-san. I was too, but I talked it over with the judges and I must say that I have to agree with some of their opinions."

Tsujitani-sensei looked as if she expected some sort of reply so Tomoyo said, "Their opinions?"

"Technically, Daidouji-san, your voice is perfect. It's flawless, there's nothing wrong with it." She leaned forward and watched Tomoyo intently. "But there's no emotion." She sat back and started waving her cast around for emphasis; Tomoyo hoped she wasn't' causing herself any pain. "It's like the bird in that story. You know, the one that's just a mechanical replacement for the real thing."

"The Emperor's Nightingale?" Tomoyo guessed.

"That sounds about right. And the Emperor does like the replacement, because while it's beautiful with heaps of jewels and gold and shiny stuff, it's not real." Tsujitani-sensei turned her attention back to Tomoyo. "Your voice is like that. You're not communicating what you feel, you're not putting it into your song."

Tomoyo was bewildered, how were you meant to react to an assessment like that. "Then what should I do?"

Tsujitani-sensei didn't seem to have any ideas. "I can't really tell you, Daidouji-san. It's something you have to find in yourself. Till you do, all we can do is practice." She grabbed a sheet of music and left her seat. "Now, come over to the piano…"

"But your arm sensei, how will you play?"

"Don't worry, I've got someone to fill in for me. He should be arriving any moment now."

The door slid open and in walked Eriol, for some reason he was covered in flour. "Sorry, I took so long sensei."

"That's fine, Hiiragizawa. We were just about to begin. Did they manage to round up all the hamsters?"

"All present and accounted for."

"Excellent." Tsujitani-sensei turned to Tomoyo. "Daidouji, this is Hiiragizawa, he has graciously agreed to play the piano for us." She bent her head to Tomoyo and confidentially added, "They say he is quite good."

"We're in the same class," Tomoyo stage whispered back.

"Really?" the teacher squealed. "Practice goes so much easier when you have a friend with you" Tomoyo tried to say that she and Eriol weren't really friends but Tsujitani-sensei had moved on. "Now," she said, "let's get started."

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Eriol flexed his fingers and distractedly rearranged his music sheets. He had been allowed a break while Tsujitani-sensei talked to Tomoyo about her technique.

Surprisingly, he had found himself enjoying this practice lesson. He had initially thought that it would be a trial, something he would have to endure in order to gain access to Tomoyo. But as soon as he began to play and she began to sing the music took over and he found himself soaring along with the melody. It was always a wrench when the song finished and he returned back to reality with a thump, but then they would begin another song and his heart would go flying again. He had to disagree with Tsujitani-sensei though; Tomoyo's voice wasn't hollow and empty. To him, it seemed like a snowbound garden, lifeless for now but heavy with the promise of spring.

He took a surreptitious glance at Tomoyo; they hadn't spoken a word to each other since their little chat on stage. Eriol had tried, on numerous occasions, to start a conversation; in order to effectively help her it would be best if they were at least speaking to each other. He had easily renewed his friendships with Yamazaki, Chiharu, Rika and Naoko. Tomoyo, however, continued to stay right out of reach. When he heard that Tsujitani-sensei was looking for someone to play the piano, he had practically broken her other arm in his haste to volunteer.

They were about to begin another piece when the door slid open, so violently it nearly jumped of its rails. All three looked up as a student rushed in and hastily bowed.

"Excuse me, sensei, but you are needed in the Home Economics room."

"Not again," Tsujitani-sensei moaned and covered her face with her hand. "Sorry students but we'll have to cut the practice short for today." She vacantly gazed around the room and said, "Would you be able to tidy up here?"

"Don't worry, sensei," Eriol smoothly stood up, "we'll take care of it."

The visiting student was dancing impatiently in the hall. "Tsujitani-sensei, please hurry. Midori-sensei was looking for the meat tenderizer when I left."

"Oh no, think of the mess," Tsujitani-sensei muttered and raced off with the student. Eriol and Tomoyo could hear their footsteps drumming down the hall.

They quietly gathered up the music sheets and books. Eriol thumbed through each file to make sure everything was in order.

"I want to apologize, Hiiragizawa, for my behavior at the competition."

Eriol carefully placed one sheaf of paper on the desk and picked up another one. "There's nothing to apologize for, Daidouji-san."

"No, there is." Tomoyo walked over and set a stack of books next to the gleaming white paper. Keeping her eyes down she said. "I'm sorry I slapped you and I'm sorry I yelled. There is no excuse I can give for such behavior. Please, forgive me."

Eriol glanced at her. "I accept your apology."

"Good." She picked up the folios he had organized, placed them on the stack of books and returned them both to the bookshelf. Her back to him, she said, "I suppose you're aware that Sakura-chan is on her way to Daisetsuzan."

Eriol didn't bother to deny it. "I'm sure she'll have a wonderful time."

"I hope she does." She still wouldn't face him. "She didn't seem aware that you had decided to stay in Tomoeda."

"You didn't tell her that I was here?" He carried the other folio of music to the bookshelf.

She looked at him as she removed the file from his arms. "I am not your messenger, Hiiragizawa, whatever you may think." Apparently he had forgiven her but she hadn't forgiven him.

Eriol raised an eyebrow.

Tomoyo sighed. "She seemed so excited and happy about her trip." She walked back to the center of the room," After all she's been through, I didn't want to spoil that." Eriol followed a step behind.

"I glad you didn't tell her."

She whirled on him then. "You didn't stay because of her did you?" her voice tinged with alarm. "Is Sakura-chan in danger?"

"No, Sakura isn't in any danger." He reassured her, placing a slight emphasis on Sakura.

"You would tell me if she was though?" she implored, her eyes holding his, demanding this promise.

"Of course."

"Good." She started shoveling a pile of schoolbooks into her bag. "What happened in the Home Economics room?" she asked casually.

"Oh, someone's pet hamsters escaped into the Home Economics room," Eriol airily said and propped himself on the desk. "They ended up hiding in one of the cupboards."

Tomoyo looked up in concern. "Poor things, they must have been so frightened."

"Yes," he nodded, "especially since Midori-sensei tried to squash them with bags of flour."

"Oh dear."

"But that was after the students tried to lure them out with desiccated coconut and peanut butter."

"Do hamsters like peanut butter?"

"Not these ones, apparently, since they wouldn't come out to eat it. That's when Midori-sensei got mad and tried packing the cupboard with flour, thinking that if it didn't force the hamsters out at least it would squash them." Tomoyo gave a gasp of alarm; Eriol smiled reassurance. "When the flour didn't work Midori-sensei tried to scare them out by lighting a fire near the cupboard. But for some reason the coconut caught fire and set off the alarm. That was when Tsujitani-sensei and I happened by, she managed to put out the fire and I rescued the hamsters. That's why we were so late." He fastidiously brushed his shirt. "And why I'm covered in flour."

"You've been spending too much time with Yamazaki-kun, his lies have infected you." She hefted her bag onto her shoulder and tucked her hair behind her hair. "There's probably a more simpler reason for you to be covered in flour." She shook her head, "Hamsters," she laughed to herself.

"But it's the truth!" he protested. "I have the teeth marks to prove it." He rolled up his sleeve and showed Tomoyo his wrist.

She bent over his wrist and gently prodded the tiny red marks, Eriol pretended to whimper in pain. "It's a wonder you were able to play the piano with such an injury."

Eriol, his mouth close to her ear, softly said, "To hear the dulcet tones of Daidouji-san's voice, I would willing bear any pain." The moment she stiffened he realized that that had been the wrong thing to say. He had been making so much progress too.

Tomoyo dropped his wrist; with that motion she crushed the feeling of closeness that had started to blossom between them. "I have to get a book from the classroom." When she reached the doorway she turned back, Eriol felt a stab of hope that all his hard work this afternoon had not been destroyed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hiiragizawa-kun."

When she had slipped into the hall, Eriol leant down and picked up something from under the desk. In his hands he held a notebook, the shiny cover a bright red with tiny white flowers for a border. He opened the book to the title page and ran his finger along the name printed inside, Daidouji Tomoyo. Drumming his fingers on the page he mused that there was always Plan B…

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The classroom, like the music room, was also full of silence, but while the music room had been like a sleeping cat, peaceful and unwilling to be disturbed, this classroom was watchful, menacing and eager to spring, more like a prowling tiger. She strained to hear the sound of voices but she couldn't hear any, everyone in the school had gone home, even the ones on cleaning duty. Tomoyo stole quickly inside, mentally planning to grab her book and get out of there. Once at her desk she chided herself for her unease, Eriol's behavior had thrown her off center. She opened her desk, her grammar book winked back at her, right where she left it.

"Daidouji-san." She jumped and the lid slammed down on her fingers, she let out a small yelp. "You're late. Sit down so that we can begin the lesson."

Tomoyo stared at the figure that was barking at her from the front of the room. It looked like Terada-sensei, but Terada-sensei never wore sweeping, shimmering robes, or if he did it was never at school. Also, Terada-sensei didn't carry a two-meter long staff, like Sakura and Eriol did.

The staff had the standard long bit that you twirl but the most interesting bit, the piece that gave each staff its personality, was the feature on top, a spinning miniature Earth, not connected to the stick bit at all. Tomoyo leaned in for a closer look, the globe looked too real; its tiny clouds swirled like real weather patterns and cast shadows on the oceans and mountains. Tomoyo imagined that if she had a telescope powerful enough she could train it on the staff and see a tiny Tomoeda, with a tinier Tomoyo standing in her classroom staring at a globe that had a tiny… She stopped when her mind started going in circles.

"Stop staring at me, Daidouji. Sit down," said the staff bearer and turned back to the blackboard. She knew that this was definitely not Terada-sensei; Terada-sensei wouldn't have been so mean.

Tomoyo slowly drifted into her seat. So, it was another one of those visits, like that Joker Clow from a few nights ago. Tomoyo wasn't concerned, Joker Clow hadn't hurt her, and he had left after he had said whatever he wanted to say; she assumed that Earth Terada would do the same thing. Tomoyo sat back and waited for the show to begin.

"The truth, Daidouji, is that you can't simply watch this time. You have to participate."

Tomoyo cast her gaze to the side. Sitting at Sakura's desk was…Yamazaki-kun? No, this was another fake person, just pretending to look like Yamazaki-kun; wearing his form. The imposter was dressed in gold robes; the sun bounced off their gleaming surface and burnished the room in oranges and yellows. He flourished a small plastic trumpet and played a little fanfare, ending it on a squawk.

"Daidouji," snapped Earth Terada, "pay attention." Tomoyo's head swiveled back to the front. Earth Terada picked up a stick of chalk and drew a small stick figure on the board; he gave it a triangular skirt and triangular hair. Pointing to the figure, he said, "This, Daidouji, is you."

Trumpet Yamazaki piped up, "The truth, Daidouji, is that you are quite small and skinny."

World Terada drew a circle around the stick figure; he then drew another circle around that. "And these circles represent your world."

There was another toot to her side. "The truth, Daidouji, is that your world is quite small."

World Terada glared at Trumpet Yamazaki, who rolled his eyes but kept quiet, for now. The fake teacher turned back to Tomoyo, he pointed to the outermost circle. "What we refer to the world is everything that exists outside ourselves. The outer circle is composed of material things, the tangible, the stuff we see with our senses. Now, Daidouji, what material things make up your world?"

Tomoyo tilted her head to the side and hazarded, "Tomoeda?"

"Specifically what in Tomoeda?"

"My home, my school."

"Exactly, and everything in your home and school." He gestured around him, "The sights, the smells, the sounds, they all make up your world. What else?"

Tomoyo racked her brain, school and home were the only places she spent much time at. She gave World Terada a bewildered look. "The park?"

World Terada leaned on his staff and sighed, "Yes, the park is also apart of your world. But I was thinking about Sakura's house, you do spend an awful lot of time there."

"But the truth, Daidouji, is that you _use_ to spend a lot of time there." Trumpet Yamazaki was right, now that Sakura had left town, Tomoyo wouldn't be going over there anymore.

World Terada had moved back to the board, he pointed to the inner circle, "Now this circle represents the people who make up your world. Daidouji, who are the people that make up your world?"

Tomoyo began rattling off a list of names, "There's my family, my mother, my grandfather; my friends, Sakura-chan, Li-kun," she wasn't sure if she should mention Kero in front of this pair. "Chiharu-chan, Rika-chan, Naoko-chan." She glanced uneasily at Trumpet Yamazaki. "Yamazaki-kun," she continued. World Terada wrote up each name on the board, within the inner circle. "I guess you could include Kinomoto-sensei, Kinomoto-sand and Tsukishiro-san as well."

Tomoyo shivered as the chalk scratched its way along the board, names trailing in its wake. Using the staff, World Terada pointed at his diagram, "This, Daidouji, represents your whole world, correct?" he asked.

Tomoyo smiled, it was nice to see your world mapped out before you and to find that it was full and wonderful. "Yes," she answered simply.

"Wrong," stated World Terada. Tomoyo's smile fell off her face and smashed on the floor. "This is not your world, Daidouji." Tomoyo felt shaky as he scrubbed out the triangular haired stick figure. "It's someone else's." He swung the marbled globe around to her and demanded, "Whose?"

She could only blink in bewilderment as World Terada's gaze bored into her.

A trumpet blared and then the fake Yamazaki hollered, "I can tell you, sensei, I can."

"Go ahead then."

"The truth is that Daidouji's world is really Sakura's."

"Correct." He drew another stick figure in the center of his chart, but this time it had circular hair, like it was wearing a helmet, and had a staff in one hand. Pointing at each word, he said, "This school is really Sakura's school, these people are all Sakura's friends."

"They're also my friends."

"Are you sure?" World Terada twirled his staff and stepped closer. "Does Chiharu turn to you when she's upset? Does Naoko ever tell you her troubles? Does Yamazaki? Does Rika? The answer is they don't, they don't turn to you, they turn to Sakura."

Trumpet Yamazaki piped up again, "The truth, Daidouji, is that you have no friends." The horn blared harshly in her ear.

World Terada smugly looked at the other names, "And we all know that Syaoran, Fujitaka, Touya, Yukito and even your great-grandfather prefer Sakura before you."

Tomoyo looked at the board, "But surely my mother is my own, not Sakura-chan's?"

"Let's think about that for a minute." He paced in front of the blackboard. "Doesn't you mother prefer to have Sakura around? Doesn't she make excuses to stay at home when she hears that Sakura is coming over? She never cancels a business appointment to be with you, does she Daidouji? Doesn't your mother seem so much more brighter, so much more alive when Sakura is with her?"

"The truth, Daidouji, is that your mother is more of an aunt to Sakura then a mother to you," said Trumpet Yamazaki as he leaned his chair towards her, balancing it on two legs.

At the blackboard, World Terada had redrawn the Tomoyo stick figure, but this time on the very edge of the outermost circle. "We've proved, Daidouji, that it's all Sakura's world and you're just living in it."

"The truth, Daidouji, is that you have no world, and the world doesn't want you."

Tomoyo spun to face him. "Stop saying that what you speak is the truth," she hissed, "If you're anything like Yamazaki-kun then all you should be able to speak are lies."

Trumpet Yamazaki appeared satisfied. "I speak the truth, Daidouji. It is you who believes in lies."

"How can what I experience day after day be a lie?" she demanded.

"Because you believe it," he stated, "and if you believe in a lie, then doesn't it become a truth?" He and the fake Terada-sensei seemed to loom over her, drawing the walls inward to slowly crush the life out of her. The menace that had always been in the room awoke and started to curl itself around her. Tomoyo bent her head to protect herself from the crash that would surely come.

Her head shot back right up when she heard the door rattle. She was alone in the classroom again; World Terada and Trumpet Yamazaki had disappeared. The door slid completely open and in stepped Eriol.

"School's finished for the day, Daidouji-san." He smiled.

Tomoyo looked around her in a daze. "Oh, I was just thinking," she said as she got to her feet, feeling as if the situation required an explanation. "What are you doing here anyway?" It seemed as if she asked Eriol that question a lot lately.

"I had to give you this," Eriol held up a red, spiral bound notebook. "You left it in the music room. Did you find your grammar book?" He began to thread his way through the maze of desks and chairs.

"Oh," Tomoyo suddenly remembered why she was here in the first place, "My grammar book." She went to open her desk but snatched her hands away in pain.

Eriol had noticed her discomfort. "Daidouji-san," he murmured with concern, "you've hurt yourself." Tomoyo realized that he was right, her fingers were all bruised and swollen, she had a dim memory of them being slammed under the desk's lid. While she was sorting through her memory, trying to access what had happened while she was in this room, Eriol had sandwiched her hands between his. He muttered something under his breath; it could have been a powerful spell or his shopping list for all she knew. Immediately her fingertips started to tingle and little blue arcs of lightning appeared and crawled over her hands. Within seconds it was over, Eriol lightly kissed the back of each hand before saying, "All done."

Tomoyo stared at her hands as if she couldn't recognize them; even though they both looked like they were suppose to look. She tried to remember if the back of her hand was supposed to have that tiny star shaped scar. While she was gazing in amazement at the wonders of ancient magic, Eriol had fetched that wayward grammar book himself. He handed it, along with the red notebook, his excuse to see Tomoyo again, to her with a flourish, "For you."

"Thank you," Tomoyo cradled the books in her arms, "not only for this but for these as well." She flapped her newly healed hands, but this shifted the books and they fell from her grasp, clattering to the floor, pages fluttering in a parody of birds wings. "Oh, dear."

Tomoyo quickly rescued the books and this time crammed them safely into her backpack. Eriol's attention had been on something else, "These are yours, Daidouji-san?" As he handed her two small cards, the events of a few minutes ago clicked back into place. "They fell out of you textbook, do you use them as bookmarks?"

The two cards were just like that Joker Clow card from a few nights ago, they both had the out of focus edges and the cloudscape backs, but each had a different picture on the front. One was of the fake Yamazaki, except this figure's trumpet wasn't a toy plastic one, it was the proper one you find in marching bands or orchestras, and, like his robes, it was golden. The other card showed a picture of the imposter Terada-sensei, again in the same shimmering robes and brandishing that strange staff with the realistic Earth spinning on top. At the bottom of the Yamazaki card was printed 'The Judgment' while 'The World' was printed below the picture of Terada-sensei.

"Yes, they're mine." She practically snatched them out of his hands and stuffed them into her pocket. Again, she had physical evidence that these visits weren't a product of her imagination, but what did it mean? She pushed that question away to answer later. Grabbing her bag, she started to move towards the exit. "We better go before they lock us in."

"We could always escape through the window," Eriol smiled mischievously and held the door open for her.

"From three floors up?" Tomoyo asked incredulous.

"I could make us some wings," he said, as if wings were something simple to make, like a cake. Just combine your ingredients, mix well, bake for half an hour and, tada, your very own wings, ready to fly.

"From what? Pencil shavings," she suggested jokingly.

Eriol seemed to take her seriously, "I would have used paper, paper's the best material for wings. Though pencil shavings might work," he considered, staring up at the ceiling, "but they'd be quite stiff and not very maneuverable, they'd probably break apart in strong winds. I guess they'd be good for short glides only." He smiled at her again and said, "That's if you don't mind getting dusted with graphite."

Tomoyo was all mock annoyance, "I think I would mind. This uniform is very difficult to clean." She delicately smoothed out non-existent creases in her shirt while looking pointedly at Eriol's flour ravaged uniform.

Her look found its mark and Eriol self-consciously brushed at his sleeves and lapel. "If you don't like my wings then you can stay trapped in the classroom," his voice changed from offended to inspired, "while I soar free through the clouds."

"Clouds of graphite most likely," she snickered.

Eriol looked wounded. "If you're going to take that attitude," he said in hurt tones, "then I may as well lock you in the school right now," he ended in triumph and sprinted his way to the exit.

Tomoyo pelted after him. "Don't you dare, Hiiragizawa!" she shouted, trying to stop herself from laughing so she'd have some breath for running.

"Try and stop me," he called over his shoulder, as they thundered down the halls, their footsteps echoing on ahead to clear the way. Classroom doors and windows flashed by like a speeding train. They hurtled down steps, using the banister as both an anchor and a guide. They rounded a corner at top speed, their shoes squealing in protest, and the door to the genkan swung into view, the light at the end of the tunnel. They both accelerated.

Eriol smacked into the door, Tomoyo crashed against him seconds later. There was a moment where the both of them were pressed against the door like bugs smashed to a windshield, but then they peeled slowly backwards and toppled to the floor.

"It's a _pull_ door, Hiiragizawa," Tomoyo accused.

"I realize that _now_, Daidouji," Eriol sniped back.

Tomoyo started laughing, Eriol immediately twisted around in concern. "Are you okay, Daidouji? You didn't hit your head?" He peered anxiously at her temple. That only made her laugh louder.

"I'm fine," she said, forcing the laughter down before she ended up laughing her lungs out. "It's just," she spluttered, "a powerful magician can't even open a door." A bout of giggles erupted so she tried to bury them in her arms. After a while, she realized that Eriol had gone strangely silent, she looked over her sleeve to see if he was still there.

Eriol had been watching her intensely. As her eyes met his, he said, "You know I wouldn't have really locked you in, don't you, Daidouji-san?" On the surface, the question radiated slight apprehension, a desire for assurance, but in the depths there lurked something else, something urgent and necessary, that needed to be satisfied.

There he went again, asking for something that she wasn't sure she could give. Tomoyo took the question on face value, "I know you were only kidding, Hiiragizawa-kun." A shutter went down behind Eriol's eyes, but Tomoyo continued, "Do you think we could get up now?"

Eriol got smoothly to his feet and then offered a hand to Tomoyo. He pulled her up in one fluid motion. Tomoyo looked down at her uniform in dismay. "Look what you've done," she cried, showing off the flour that covered her front.

"Now we match," smirked Eriol, it turned into a smile at the sight of her frown.

Stepping lightly past him, Tomoyo placed a hand on the door handle. "Watch carefully, Hiiragizawa-kun," she said sweetly, "to open a _pull_ door you turn the handle and draw the door towards yourself, like so." She repeated the motion to a resigned Eriol, then stepped back and said, "Now you try."

While rolling his eyes, Eriol executed the maneuver perfectly. He offered his arm to Tomoyo. "May I?"

Tomoyo gave a little curtsey and graciously accepted. Arm in arm, the two students walked through the door, their footprints marked out in flour.

**AN:** _I picked Daisetsuzan National Park as the place Sakura goes to because I needed somewhere that was still in Japan but far away from Tomoyo. I'm probably wrong, but I always thought that Tomoeda was near Tokyo, because I thought that that red Eiffel Towerish tower that Sakura tends to dream about and is home to many magical battles was Tokyo Tower. So, I assumed that Tomoyo's near Tokyo and threw Sakura all the way up north, on the island of Hokkaido. I'm probably wrong about Fujitaka being an archaeologist too._


	4. The Sun, The Moon & The Star

**Disclaimer:** _CLAMP owns the library that is Card Captor Sakura. I just borrow the books without permission and forget to return them on time._

**The Tomoeda Arcana**

**Chapter Three: The Sun, The Moon & The Star**

The china clinked slightly as the tea set was carried through the lounge room; the tea cups interrogating the milk dispenser as to why the sugar bowl wasn't there. Nakuru placed the lacquered tray on the glass tabletop and stepped back to allow Spinel to pour the tea. Spinel always insisted on pouring the tea.

Unwilling to sit down just yet, Nakuru wandered around the room, treating everyday objects as if they were new discoveries. There was the fireplace, the mantle covered with pictures of Touya, pictures shot with a telephoto lens; the lounge set, the fabric shredded in places because, while Spinel wasn't a cat, he was in the form of a cat and so took some of a cat's characteristics. Suddenly Nakuru froze; this hadn't been here yesterday. He pounced on the white form draped over the sofa.

"Eriol-sama!" Nakuru squealed delightedly, holding the dress against him and dancing around the room. "I love it. Thank you so much." He held the dress out at arms length and looked at it critically. "But you made it a bit small."

"That's because it's not for you." Eriol didn't even look up from his book.

Nakuru pouted for a moment but then smirked. "Well, if it's too small for me then it will definitely be too small for Mizuki-sensei," he said smugly. That earned a warning glare from Spinel, who was carefully pouring the milk. Nakuru poked out his tongue and went back to modeling the dress, even if it was too small.

"That dress is not for Kaho either," said Eriol and calmly turned a page.

A frown creased Nakuru's forehead, "Then who is it for?"

"Daidouji-san." Even Spinel looked at Eriol curiously when he said that.

Holding the dress out again, Nakuru said, "Daidouji-san? I guess it would suit her wonderfully, but Daidouji-san?" Nakuru whirled back to Eriol, sending the skirt and sleeves flying. "Why?" he demanded.

Eriol kept his eyes between the book cover. "I need her to take her clothes off," he said distractedly.

A cushion, thrown through the air with much speed and force, smacked him in the head, knocking the book out of his hands and his glasses half off his face. Eriol blinked to clear the stars from his eyes and tried to shake out the bells ringing in his ears. After adjusting his glasses, the first thing he saw was a scandalized Nakuru getting ready to launch another cushion.

"You are a sick, perverted little boy, Eriol-sama," screeched Nakuru as he threw the cushion. Eriol somersaulted off his chair and scampered behind the couch. The cushion rebounded off the headrest and bumped into the coffee table, rocking the teapot; Spinel quickly put out a paw to avert a disaster.

"It's not what you think!" protested Eriol from his antique furniture refuge. Nakuru, not wishing to relinquish his final piece of ammunition, began to chase Eriol around the room, swinging the last cushion in an attempt to brain the little pervert. Spinel, figuring his master was capable of defending himself, decided to protect the next important thing in the room, the tea set.

"Daidouji-san is a sweet girl," Nakuru shouted, "Don't even think of taking advantage of her." The cushion arced over Eriol's head and shattered a Greek amphora: Spinel winced.

Eriol crawled commando style towards the window, while Nakuru leaned over the backrest and battered him with a vengeance. "How dare you think that way of Daidouji-san! You are sick, sick, SICK!"

"Nakuru! Stop it! Listen to me! I am your master!" Eriol commanded, his voice threatening dire consequences, but Nakuru insisted on beating those impure thoughts out of him. The cushion finally ended the 'discussion': after being subjected to such abuse it did what cushions, pillows and even teddy bears do under such circumstances, it exploded.

The air became saturated with feathers; they danced through the air, stuck to surfaces and tried to worm into noses. Spinel flapped his wings in an attempt to create a vortex that would stop the feathers from falling into the tea. Now that he wasn't being beaned by a cushion, Eriol was able to get to his feet. He eyed Nakuru warily through the feather storm.

"Can I explain now?" he asked sarcastically.

The only response Nakuru gave was to blow a feather off his nose.

"I need Daidouji," he said slowly, making sure Nakuru absorbed every word, "to take her clothes off," he paused, waiting for the expected outburst. When it didn't come, he said, "so that I can plant this." He drew out from his pocket a handkerchief, which he unfolded and held out for the others to see. Nakuru crept forward, and even Spinel gave into his curiosity and fluttered over for a look.

The light blue handkerchief appeared to contain nothing, till Eriol shifted a bit and suddenly light flashed in the center. Tucked into the fabric was a plain sewing needle threaded with a thin black thread. Nakuru and Spinel peered intently at the thread; to a guardian they stared at Eriol, then back at the thread.

Finally Spinel asked, "Is that your _hair_, Eriol-sama?"

Eriol rolled his eyes. "Yes."

Nakuru jumped back. "That is so gross!" he whined, dancing on the spot.

"Magic isn't all wand waving and flashing lights, you know," Eriol said defensively and refolded the handkerchief. "Hair is the best thing to use if you want to track someone. Or would you rather I use toenail?" Nakuru's dancing became more frantic.

Spinel was more practical. "But why do you need to track her movements? Haven't you and Daidouji-san become closer over these last few days? Surely she would tell you if something strange were to happen."

Eriol sighed and fell into a chair. "Daidouji-san tolerates me, I'm even inclined to think she enjoys my company, but she doesn't trust me." He ran his hands through his hair to dislodge some feathers. "And if she doesn't trust me then she won't confide in me."

Nakuru came over and perched himself on the armrest. "Why do you have to use that icky hair thing anyway?" Nakuru shuddered slightly. "Why can't you track her by her aura?"

"Because Daidouji-san doesn't have any magic," Spinel answered for Eriol, "and people without magic have auras that are very difficult to follow."

Eriol mused that in Tomoyo's case that was only partly true, a magic users aura did tend to be brighter and more vibrant than a non-magic users aura, but Tomoyo's had been much fainter than the average. Eriol wasn't immediately alarmed, auras were often dictated by emotional states, and Tomoyo hadn't been feeling the brightest lately.

Nakuru had apparently spotted a flaw in his plan. "So you plan to thread this hair into an item of Daidouji-san's clothing, and you can then track her by following that hair. But what if she isn't wearing that item? If she's wearing something else, you've lost her." Nakuru crossed his arms in triumph, daring the others to question his genius.

"But once I've threaded it," Eriol replied smugly, "I'll cast a replication spell that will copy it into every item of clothing she has."

"Every item of clothing?" Nakuru asked ominously.

"Every item within the bounds of good taste, Nakuru," Eriol deadpanned back.

Nakuru sniffed in righteousness, "I should hope so."

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

A tiny pink star sauntered through the air, dancing with the breeze, ducking and swooping like a swallow, but still falling inevitably downwards. For a second it stalled, suspended in the light of the late spring day, and then plunged like a thunderbolt, striking into black night. Eriol gently reached out and removed the wayward cherry blossom from Tomoyo's pigtail; he released it on another windborne journey. Tomoyo sent him a look of apology, keep your hair long and it tends to catch things, not just tangles.

The last half of lunch break was just beginning, the usual suspects had gone outside to eat their meal under their usual tree. Most of them had things to do and places to be very soon, but for now, all six were content to watch the sunlight fall through the canopy of leaves, pattering on their faces like rain.

Naoko had started talking, the novel she had been reading lying forgotten beside her. "Have you gotten a letter from Sakura-chan yet?" she asked Tomoyo.

"Actually, one arrived just yesterday," Tomoyo said as she bent over her bag and drew something out. "It's addressed to all of us, but it's not really a letter, more of a postcard."

She flourished a picture of a herd of deer grazing in front of a pine forest. The little fawn earned coos of "It's so cute," from Rika and Chiharu; Eriol smiled indulgently: girls.

"I'll read it out," said Tomoyo. Putting on the voice she normally used for class presentations, she read, "Hello everyone. Hope you are all okay. I am having a great time in Daisetsuzan. It took us a whole day to reach the site, even though we started at five am. We had to hike and climb from the very start since there aren't any roads to this temple. Dad and Oniichan had to carry me over some of the steeper bits. Archaeology is just like camping. I think I'll study to be an archaeologist. Running out of room. Miss you all. Love Sakura." Tomoyo looked up expectantly, as if she was waiting to field comments. Looking over her shoulder, Eriol noticed that someone had scrawled in the corner: 'SEND CANDY' and signed it with a paw print. The wilderness was obviously not agreeing with Kero.

"She is so lucky," sighed Naoko. "Imagine, no school to worry about, no tests, no cleaning duty, surrounded by nature." Naoko's eyes lit up, "There's probably heaps of monsters and undiscovered creatures in that national park; like Bigfoot, a Japanese subspecies at least. And that temple her dad's working on, it's probably loaded with ghosts and curses and zombie monks and…"

Rika was getting restless, so Tomoyo decided to put a stop to Naoko's gore-fest ­– Kinomoto-sensei and the Temple of Zombie Monks indeed. "I'm sure it's just an ordinary temple, Naoko-chan. Sakura-chan wouldn't have been allowed to go if her father thought it would be dangerous. And it's no holiday for her, she has to help out with the excavation."

"But uncovering the fractured skull of a sacrificed monk would be much more interesting than boring Physical Education," insisted Naoko.

"Will Sakura-chan be able to send any more letters? She's high up in the mountains, after all," Rika butted in hastily.

"Probably not," said Tomoyo with regret, "They're pretty isolated up there. The postal service only goes as far as the Asahidake Onsen."

"There's probably no electricity at their campsite either," Eriol said and exchanged a smile with Tomoyo. "No video games."

"Or quiz shows," she shot back. Naoko and Rika blinked in bewilderment.

Chiharu had missed the whole exchange as her attention had been focused on Yamazaki. "Well?" she glared at him.

"Well what?" Yamazaki asked in confusion.

"Aren't you going to tell us a story?" she demanded, "About how in Daisetsuzan the pine trees have needles that are full of sugar and their cones are like fire crackers and that every new year all the animals in the park get together to chew sugar needles and throw exploding pine cones at the moon?"

Everyone else was smiling but Yamazaki looked downhearted. "It's not the same," he said dejectedly, "Li-kun and Kinomoto-san aren't here; they were always willing to listen to my stories, unlike the rest of you." His gaze singled out Chiharu.

She was instantly contrite. "We do like hearing your stories, Yamazaki-kun." Everyone nodded in agreement. "It's just that they seem so unlikely and…" she searched for a word, "weird. We can take only so much weirdness in one sitting. I'm sorry if you thought we didn't like them."

"In that case," he switched to his Professor of Another Useless Fact persona, "did you know that brown bears were not originally brown?"

"They weren't?" said Chiharu, unable to adjust to this sudden shift in mood.

"No," Yamazaki continued, "originally they were invisible."

"What!" blurted Naoko.

"This isn't like how pandas got their black marks, is it?" Rika asked shyly.

"This is a completely different story, Sasaki-san," Eriol couldn't help jumping in, "The panda story is a legend, the transformation of the invisible bears has been scientifically documented."

"The scientists had to stand up in court and take an oath," said Yamazaki.

"And it was a very special, very binding oath because it involved–" said Eriol

"Singing," ended Yamazaki.

"Yes, singing. Yodeling to be exact, for five hours straight, and standing on their head and–" Eriol was interrupted again.

"Enough about oath-taking singer scientists," Naoko shouted, "Get back to the bears."

"Oh yes, the bears, the invisible bears." Yamazaki put a finger to his chin and tried to look knowledgeable. "Well, not only were the bears invisible they were also–"

"Bouncy," said Eriol: it was his turn to interrupt.

"Yes, they were bouncy," said Yamazaki, unsure of where this was heading.

"That's how they got around. They didn't walk, they bounced there way all over the forest," said Eriol.

"But this was a big problem for all the villagers," said Yamazaki. "They'd be walking in the forest, collecting firewood or berries or going to see Grandma, and suddenly an invisible bear would bounce into them, knocking them to the ground."

"The villagers decided that something had to be done. They had to make these invisible bears visible," said Eriol.

"So they went to the wise man of the village and asked him what they should do." Yamazaki threw the story thread right back to Eriol.

"The wise man said that the village's tailor and baker should work together to create each bear a jacket made out of chocolate," said Eriol.

"It took the tailor and the baker many weeks, but finally they made the coats. The villagers then went into the forest and hung each coat on a branch, so that when a bear bounced by it would get caught in a coat." Yamazaki went into the home stretch, "When the villagers went back to check on the coats, they found a bear in each one. That's why bears are brown, they're covered in chocolate," he ended in triumph.

The two boys beamed at the four girls who stared back speechless. Then Chiharu wrapped her fingers around Yamazaki's neck.

"Never again," she spat out between strangles, "will I say that I like listening to your lies." Yamazaki's head rocked back and forth like it was at sea, but he still kept that grin. Chiharu's arms must have started to cramp because she jumped up and began to drag Yamazaki towards the main building. "We have a science project to do," she called to the others. "See you in class." Her angry mutters to Yamazaki could still be heard as they made their way across the lawn.

"I better be going too," said Rika and got to her feet, "I have a study session in the library."

"I'll come with you," declared Naoko. She waved her book and said, "I want to return this: it is so boring."

While the two girls were walking away, Eriol heard Naoko suggest, "Maybe Yamazaki-kun should write a book." He smiled: he had been thinking the same thing.

He turned to Tomoyo and said, "I wonder what Cerberus would think if he heard that he was sharing a park with chocolate covered bears."

"Knowing Kero-chan," said Tomoyo as she idly stacked flower petals on the grass, "he would probably try to eat them. Tsukishiro-san would try as well, but he'd be much more polite about it."

"Yes," Eriol chuckled, "he'd say 'Excuse me, Mister Bear, but would you mind if I ate one of your legs? Perhaps the left one?'"

"But Kero-chan wouldn't even bother to ask." She toppled the flower pyramid and started to arrange the flowers in a line.

For all her pleasant banter Eriol could tell that inside she was hurting. He stared at her; she sat right next to him but she may as well be on the moon, she was so distant. It seemed to him that she was like a reflection on water, you'd reach out a hand to touch it but instead you'd slip right through, shattering the image with ripples. Her aura, a faint and ghostly mist around her, only confirmed his impressions.

"Do you miss them?" Eriol asked.

"Who? Kero-chan and Tsukishiro-kun?" she looked up surprised, "Of course I do. And Kinomoto-sensei, and Sakura-chan." Her voice trailed off on the last part.

"You were really close to Sakura-san, weren't you?"

"Were?" she seized upon, "I still am close to her, Hiiragizawa-kun. She's just in Hokkaido," she said while twiddling a flower between her fingers, "it's not like I've lost her."

"But in a way you have lost her, you've lost her to Syaoran." He hoped that she wouldn't see this as an attack but as a gesture of friendship, a desire to earn her trust and share her pain.

"You're being ridiculous, Hiiragizawa-kun," she dismissed, "I think you've been out in the sun for too long." And like that, the matter was dropped, there was to be no more mention of Sakura and Syaoran, She had rejected his offer of help. For a while all that could be heard between the two was the leaves rattling above.

"And how are Akizuki-san and Spinel-san?" Tomoyo enquired.

Leaning against the tree trunk, Eriol replied brightly, "Very well actually. They didn't want to leave Tomoeda in the first place. Nakuru was a bit annoyed that Kinomoto-san had left, but he's found other things to chase since then."

"And what about Mizuki-sensei?"

Eriol froze. It felt as if winter had come six months too early: the sun seemed cold, the birdsong muffled, his senses as if they were shrouded in snow. That well of loneliness that he always carried with him began to leech up and flood his being, starting with his heart, which it drowned in its dark, empty depths.

Tomoyo must have realized that she'd said something wrong. She glanced at him swiftly and said, "Oh, I'm sorry Hiiragizawa-kun. I didn't mean to pry." She turned her attention back to her pattern of flowers.

The loneliness that had come so suddenly was now swept away by a rampaging anger; it sent power coursing through his veins, tingling at his fingertips. He wanted to destroy her in that moment: summon up a firestorm and reduce her to ashes. He had given up his life for her, put it on hold till who knew when, and all she could do was sit there, indifferent to him, the one person who could save her.

He had to get away from her.

"Excuse me, Daidouji-san," he was pleased to see he got up gracefully; no stumbling to his feet for Hiiragizawa Eriol, he had maintained that modicum of control, at least. "But there is something I have to do before class." It sounded like a lame excuse, even to his ears.

He stalked away then, leaving her in the company of her cherry blossoms.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo trailed a hand along the wall as she mad her way to the school sewing room: she had, at the last minute, decided to work on her project at home. The corridors were deserted, it was after school hours and all the students had already gone home. It seemed as if everyone was doing that lately, leaving her alone.

She paused outside the door. The classroom was supposed to be deserted but she was sure she could hear voices. Slowly and quietly, she inched the door open, pressed an eye to the crack and peered inside.

There were three people sitting on the floor, right under the window. Though they were partly obscured by the cutting table, Tomoyo could see that they were sitting in a circle and had their heads bent over something that lay in front of them. One of them murmured something that set them all off into giggles, they were girls.

Stepping into the room, Tomoyo coughed politely, intending to just grab her stuff and quickly leave. "Sorry to disturb you," she said, "but I just have to–" She broke off in shock. The three girls beneath the window were Chiharu, Rika and Naoko.

"Tomoyo, come and sit down. We were just about to start." Tomoyo realized her mistake, the person who just spoke wasn't Chiharu, it just wore her form, like Joker Clow and the two in the classroom. Tomoyo started to back away.

"Don't be frightened, Tomoyo," said the imposter Rika, "we won't hurt you."

"We just want to have a little chat," added the fake Naoko.

Common sense screamed at her to run right out the room, but her stubbornness and pride got the upper hand and forced her to round the table and walk closer to the group.

The first thing that she noticed were the flowers, they littered the whole area. Roses, lilies, violets and hyacinths were jumbled together in baskets; carnations, poppies, bougainvilleas and gardenias lay scattered on the floor; sweet peas, hydrangeas and paper daisies sat confused in laps; Tomoyo even spotted more exotic species like frangipani and kangaroo paw on the windowsill. It looked as if the trio had robbed a florist, or the botanical gardens.

The fake Rika scooted to the side and patted the ground, indicating that Tomoyo should sit.

As she dropped to the floor, Tomoyo looked intently at the trio. All of them were dressed like Jane Austen heroines, all high waists and puffy sleeves. The only thing that distinguished them was the print on the fabric: Chiharu's dress was splashed with red suns, Rika's covered in orange moons, and Naoko's sprinkled with hundreds of yellow stars. That motif was continued in their hair, with each symbol nestled in curls and tresses.

Tomoyo's attention shifted to the thing that lay on the floor. Her first thought was that it was a patchwork quilt and she was partly right: the squares weren't made of fabric but of petals.

"Do you like it?" asked Stellar Naoko.

"It's beautiful," was all Tomoyo could say. She reached out a finger and gently stroked a star of jasmine. "But what is it?"

"Why, it's you, silly," chirped Solar Chiharu.

Tomoyo jerked her hand back. "Me?"

"More like a representation of you," said Stellar Naoko.

"Think of it as a map of your heart," said Lunar Rika.

"My heart is made of flowers?" Tomoyo was all disbelief.

"Why do you think we give flowers to the ones we love?" said Lunar Rika sweetly.

Solar Chiharu pointed out a burst of chrysanthemum petals. "This represents your cheerfulness." Her finger drifted to a bluebell and said, "While this represents your humility."

"This tiger lily, however," Stellar Naoko butted in, "is your pride. Your sense of refinement, your grace, is this orchid over here." A burning lily, striped in black, flashed brightly next to a delicate pink orchid.

"This is your gentle nature, this your habit of watching, this your innocence, and this your appreciation for the strange things in the world." Lunar Rika gestured to a burst of everlasting daisies, a strand of royal blue violets, the crumpled white petals of a carnation and the orange slashes of a bird of paradise.

Tomoyo was captivated, the quilt before her was a riot of color, a marbled rainbow. Each petal was a different shape, a different texture, but they all meshed together perfectly, each occupying its own special space. "It's amazing," she whispered.

"Yeah, it is quite pretty," agreed Stellar Naoko. A soft, sleek sound cut through the air. "Too bad we have to destroy it."

Tomoyo looked up in alarm, Stellar Naoko was holding a pair of scissors, their blades a dull black, like coal.

"Why?" cried Tomoyo.

"Because no one wants it," said Solar Chiharu. Wielding her own pair of matte black scissors, she snipped at the patchwork-petal blanket, the blades coming away red; with every cut, Tomoyo felt a little jab of pain in her chest.

"No. Stop it." Tomoyo tried to wrench the scissors out of their hands, but they laughed and pushed her away. She then tried putting the pieces of quilt back together, as if her hands and will could make it whole. "Just because no one wants it doesn't mean it has to be ruined," she yelled as blood and petals seeped through her fingers.

"Why not?" jeered Lunar Rika, she had abandoned her scissors and was now ripping the petals apart with her bare hands. With every tear blood and flowers were tossed in the air. "It will only go to waste."

"It will only rot or shatter or freeze," sneered Solar Chiharu.

"Better to end it now," said Stellar Naoko, "better to avoid all that."

"No one wants you, Tomoyo," they started chanting. "No one wants you."

Tomoyo shut her eyes as blood and petals rained down on her.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Eriol stalked through the empty school corridors, a paper bag swinging from his hand. All through the second half of school, as he sat behind her in class, he regretted his reaction to Tomoyo. Such an emotional response wasn't professional, a person's very existence was at stake, and he shouldn't allow his feelings to come before that.

He made his way to the sewing room: he had overheard Tomoyo tell Naoko that she had to pick something up from there, so he decided to follow her. He stopped at the door; it felt as if a chasm of hopelessness lay beyond. It reminded him of the time he went to return Tomoyo's notebook, the classroom had been inhabited by something similar. At the time he thought it was Tomoyo herself, that when she was alone, she allowed her feelings to run rampant; she always seemed to carry a shadow of sadness with her, a seed of despair.

He was greeted with the sight of Tomoyo kneeling by the window, forehead pressed to the floorboards.

"Daidouji-san, are you okay?" he rushed over.

Tomoyo sat up in shock and she looked around in bewilderment. "I'm okay," she said, recovering quickly. "I just dropped something."

"Okay," Eriol decided to play along, even though he knew she was lying. "Can I help you look?"

"No, no, it's okay." She held up a pencil. "Found it." Eriol didn't mention that he saw her take that pencil from her pocket.

Eriol helped her to her feet. "I've been looking all over for you," he said, "I need you to try on this." He shoved the bag into her arms.

"What? Why?"

"No questions, just try it on. You'll be doing me a big favor." He guided her to the folding screen in a corner of the room, where students would change into the clothes they were making. If she hadn't been so disorientated he wouldn't have gotten away with it.

Eriol stood by the divider as Tomoyo got changed; she had draped her clothes over the divider. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket, then grasped one hanging sleeve and quickly pulled, sending the clothes sliding to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Tomoyo, as if it was her fault.

"Don't worry," said Eriol, "I'll get them."

Eriol quickly picked up the nearest item of clothing, it happened to be Tomoyo's jacket. He flipped the jacket upside down to expose the bottom hem. He unpinned the needle he carefully threaded one of his hairs into the lining, embroidering a little sunburst in thin black. He then covered it with his palm and muttered the replication spell; his hand glowed red briefly as the magic activated. Eriol picked up Tomoyo's shirt to see if it worked. As he expected, threaded inside on the bottom hem was a tiny black sun.

He stopped admiring his handiwork when he heard a small gasp as Tomoyo pulled the dress out of the bag. "It's beautiful, Hiiragizawa-kun," she sighed. "But who's it for?"

"A friend of the family," Eriol lied: he had no friends; he had no family. Carefully folding her shirt, he said, "I'm not sure if it fits properly, so I appreciate you modeling it for me. You're about her size."

As he shook the crumples out of her jacket, something fell out of the pocket, three somethings. They were cards, but their edges were out of focus, as if they were out of step with reality. Each card had something written on the bottom, The Sun, The Moon, and The Star and each had a picture of one of his classmates, Chiharu, Rika and Naoko respectively. They reminded Eriol of the cards he had seen with Tomoyo, that time he went to return her notebook; they must be apart of a set. For all their oddness, there was nothing magical about them.

Tomoyo had started to step out from behind the divider, so Eriol quickly stuffed the cards back into the jacket pocket and placed it over the clothes he had already folded.

"You look wonderful," exclaimed Eriol.

"I'm not sure," she ducked her head and blushed. "It's a bit loose in places," she said, trying to divert attention from how great she supposedly looked.

"That was to be expected." Eriol opened a drawer and grabbed a pincushion. He walked up to her and began adjusting the seams, starting at the shoulders.

Tomoyo couldn't pull her attention away from the dress. She brushed her fingers down the skirt, the material was light and soft, it fell to the floor and through her fingers like water: she felt as if she was wearing a rainstorm. She had to ask, "What fabric did you use?"

Eriol put a hand under her chin and tilted her head up. "It's made of clouds," he said simply and had to tilt her head up again after she dropped it down in amazement. "Now stand up straight, otherwise it won't fit properly." His arms circled her waist as he worked on the side seams. "I wove the fabric from spun clouds," he explained, "cumulus clouds actually, specifically the silver linings, because they shine in all lights and offer hope. Stratus clouds can be too dull and weary, while cumulonimbus clouds are too temperamental."

"How can you spin fabric from clouds?" she thought he was joking.

"The same way you spin wool from sheep and cotton from…cotton." He checked to see if the sleeves were the right length. "But first you have to collect them. Nakuru refused to help me, said the moisture would make his hair frizz, so it was just Spinel and I on cloud gathering duty."

Tomoyo glanced down to look at the cuffs Eriol was fiddling with. "The lace is made of clouds too?"

"Yep, cirrus to be exact." The lace, which trimmed the cuffs and the skirt, did look like the wispy, delicate ferns you could see sailing high in the sky. "Spinel had to wear little woolen bootees when we went to collect them."

Tomoyo smirked at the idea of Spinel in bootees. "I suppose you knitted those yourself?"

Eriol didn't deny it, "And a matching hat as well." He knelt down to check the length of the skirt; she followed the movement and noticed the embroidery that rippled all over the dress. Eriol had stitched dozens of birds and feathers into the fabric, yet they were practically invisible and only flashed into view if you tilted your head the right way.

"What thread did you use for the embroidery?" She caressed a dove, wings stretched in full flight, which soared above her knee.

"I didn't." He worked his way around the skirt. "Use thread, that is. I used light instead."

"Light?" She looked over her shoulder, seeing if she had heard right.

"Yes, light," he smiled up at her.

Tomoyo traced a finger along a shining filament, with something as beautiful as this, she could almost believe him. Eriol had returned back to his starting point and now stood before her. "All finished. You can take it off now. Just watch out for the pins."

Tomoyo seemed reluctant. "You don't want to take it off?" Eriol asked, taking each of her hands in his.

"I just realized that I've never been fitted for a dress before. Funny isn't it, I've fitted others but never been fitted myself. Now I know why they fidget so much."

"That's just your nature, Daidouji-san. You give so much and never ask anything for yourself."

"I just want people to be happy."

"And what about you?"

"It's not me that's important," she said, casting her head downwards. "Or so I've heard people say, anyway." She was fading, he held her in his hands and she was still fading.

"They're wrong, Daidouji-san." He brought his hands up to either side of her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You are important."

The sun burst into the room then, sending flights of birds along her dress, yet for all its brilliance it couldn't compare to the hope that kindled in her eyes.

**AN:** _No, it's not finished yet. I just have to go renew the prescription for my motivation pills. Can't think: brain broken, eh._


	5. The Tower

**AN: **_No more notes till the end._

**Disclaimer: **_Insert standard disclaimer here._

**The Tomoeda Arcana**

**Chapter Four: The Tower**

It was Drag Your Family To School So That They Can Look At All The Wonderful Stuff You Did And Didn't We Do A Great Job Educating You Day at Tomoeda Lower School. Every classroom was packed with dotting parents and bored siblings. In one particular room, three boys stood around a table, intently studying what was on top. Their conversation went like this:

"It's an elephant," said one.

"No, it's a horse," said another.

"No, it's an elephant. Look, these are its ears, this is its trunk and these are its tusks."

"I'm telling you, it's a horse. The ears are too small for an elephant and its neck is too long. It's even got a saddle. Only horses wear saddles."

"Elephants can wear saddles, the fancy ones with all the tassels and a phone-booth perched on top. Besides, she likes elephants."

"She doesn't like elephants. What kind of girl likes elephants? It's horses that she likes."

"She likes elephants. I'm her brother, I should know."

"I'm her brother too and I'm saying she likes horses."

"Elephants."

"Horses."

"Elephants."

"Horses."

Just when things were about to get violent, the third boy broke his silence. "I think it's a racing car."

The other two blinked and swiveled to face their brother. "A racing car?" they asked simultaneously.

The third brother nodded.

The other two looked back to the sculpture.

"It's not a racing car," said the first brother.

"Racing cars don't have legs," said the second.

"Those aren't legs," said the third. "They're little stands to hold the car up."

"They're not stands, they're apart of the sculpture, they're made of the same stuff. Stands have to be made of different material."

"Fine then, they're legs. It's a car with legs," the third brother conceded, anything to stop this conversation.

"Cars don't have legs, they have wheels." The first brother, who was also the oldest, just wouldn't let it go.

"This car's got both."

"You can't have both. You can either have wheels or legs, not both."

"What about tables? A table can have wheels and legs. So you can move it around." The second brother, who loved annoying the eldest brother, just had to voice his opinion.

"What?" said the first brother. "You think it's a table now? What happened to horses?"

"I didn't say it was a table," the second brother said, slowly and clearly. "I just said tables have wheels and legs. You should learn to pay attention."

"I only pay attention to things worth paying attention to." The first brother stepped menacingly towards his sibling.

Again, it looked as if a fight was about to break out, but then third brother spoke up, "Quick, she's coming this way. What did we say it was again?"

Chiharu stepped up to her three brothers. "So," she said brightly, "what do you think?"

Her brothers looked intently at the sculpture and tried to put on expressions of serious thought. The mmmed and ahhed and scratched their heads in contemplation. The third one even put his hands out in front of him, framing the piece with his fingers, the way movie directors do when they picture a scene.

When it became obvious that Chiharu wanted something more than expressions that looked like displays of indigestion, the first brother said, "I think it displays an excellent understanding of positive and negative space."

Seeing that his sister approved of that comment the second brother added, "The earthy tones of the clay contrast well with the more fluid form of the sculpture itself."

"It will look great on the dining room table." That was from the third brother.

Their opinions given, the three brothers sighed in relief and visibly relaxed. They had the air of people who had navigated a minefield and had come through with all their limbs attached.

"And?" asked Chiharu expectantly. "Do you think I captured the subject?" Apparently there was another minefield up ahead.

"And..."

"It's a very good sculpture..."

"Of..."

"An ele..."

"Horse..."

"Car..."

Chiharu's smile fell. "You don't know what it is, do you?"

Her brothers looked sheepishly to the side, at their shoes, at the ceiling, anywhere except Chiharu's face. "No," they muttered.

A mallet came out of nowhere and whacked them each on the head. "Can't you see, " WHACK "that it's a representation, " WHACK "of family love?" WHACK.

Eriol chuckled to himself as Chiharu's family squabbled amongst themselves. Off to the side the Yamazaki's parents were listening in stunned silence as their son lectured them on how flying squirrels were responsible for the fall of the Roman Empire. His two little sisters egged him on.

On the other side of the room, Naoko was chatting with her parents and Terada-sensei, while at the front Rika was showing her grandparents the history project she did this year. Eriol allowed his eyes to roam around the room, flitting from one happy family to another. This school open day had turned into some sort of carnival.

Eriol's eyes stopped on one student; there was someone whose family couldn't make it.

Tomoyo sat alone at her desk, tucked away in one corner of the room. Happy families swirled around her, but she was her own little island of solitude. She was looking outside, her chin resting on her hand.

Eriol walked over and perched himself on her desk. As he fiddled with some flyers advertising today's events he asked, "Will your mother be attending today, Daidouji-san?"

Her gaze gliding towards him, she said, "No, she had to fly up north because of business."

"Nakuru couldn't make it either." He held the paper against the desk and sharply creased an edge. "Apparently the 'Really Cute' chemistry professor will be lecturing today and Nakuru just had to attend." He continued when Tomoyo didn't say anything, "Spinel would have come but I think a flying cat would have attracted too much attention."

They lapsed back into silence; Eriol fixed in his bout of origami, while Tomoyo idly watched. The background chatter began to creep into their little bubble of quiet. Eriol finished his folding and tucked the two pieces into his pocket. Tomoyo was a bit annoyed that he didn't show her what he had been making.

The annoyance turned into surprise when Eriol reached out and took her hand. "Come away with me," he said.

"Excuse me?" said Tomoyo.

Eriol pulled her out of her chair "Let's get out of here. Let's escape."

Tomoyo looked around the classroom as Eriol led her to the door. "But Terada-sensei will know if we're missing," she said with alarm. "We'll get into trouble."

"No we won't," said Eriol, "Look over there." Eriol tossed his head in the direction of the classroom. Tomoyo looked back, sitting at her desk, talking quietly was herself and Eriol. She looked back at Eriol.

He noticed the question in her eyes. "It's just an illusion, people will think we're really there."

"But what if they try to talk to us – I mean them?"

"A part of the spell is that they won't want to talk to us, they'll suddenly remember something important and completely forget about talking to us." Eriol was quite pleased with this spell, what was the point of an illusion if it was easily discovered. The best illusions were ones that were never challenged.

Tomoyo was still hesitating on the threshold. Eriol squeezed her hand and asked, "You do trust me, don't you?"

She answered by stepping out the door. Eriol smiled and the two of them raced down the hallway.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo felt like a kite, flying along in Eriol's wake as they raced through corridors and stairwells. At first she thought Eriol would take her outside, but when they reached the stairway, instead of going down they went up. As he opened the door that led to the roof, the sun burst into her eyes, and she had to hold up a hand to shield her against the glare. The sky arched a bright blue above them.

Tomoyo looked down from the blue sky to her other hand, specifically what it held.

"I think you can let go of my hand now, Hiiragizawa-kun," she said.

Eriol glanced down in surprise, as if he had forgotten that they were holding hands at all. "I better not," he said, "if I let go the Tomoyo in the classroom will disappear." Tomoyo didn't like the idea of herself vanishing so she kept her hand where it was, in Eriol's.

Eriol had led them to the edge of the roof. "So this is it, huh?" asked Tomoyo. "Our great escape to the rooftop. Very exciting."

"We're not finished yet, Daidouji-san. Have patience." Eriol took from his pocket the pieces of paper he had been folding in class. He showed them to her; they looked like wings. "We're going to use these."

"I don't think those would get us very far."

"Just turn around."

Tomoyo dutifully spun in a circle but because of their held hands Eriol spun with her. She tried spinning the other way but that didn't work either. She started giggling when her next attempt had them standing back to back. The local pigeons were bemused at the sight of two students twirling around each other like drunken ballerinas.

Fighting down giggles, Eriol said, "Wait. Just stand still and I'll turn around."

Tomoyo stood completely still, except that her shoulders were shaking with laughter. Eriol walked a circle around her, drawing her arm across, till he was behind her. He took one pair of paper wings and carefully fastened it to the back of Tomoyo's shirt, securing it with a spark of magic. He then reached behind him and did the tricky maneuver on himself with the other pair of wings.

With a flick he spun Tomoyo away from him. She jolted to a stop when she reached the limit of her and Eriol's reach.

Swinging their hands between them, Eriol said, "Now we jump."

Tomoyo was incredulous. "What? Off the roof?"

"No," Eriol said with patience. "Just up and down."

"Up and down?" Tomoyo repeated with disbelief.

"Yes, Daidouji-san. Like this." Eriol started to jump up and down on the spot. When she realized that he wasn't going to stop, Tomoyo joined in. The complete ridiculousness of jumping up and down on the school roof caught up with Tomoyo and she started laughing again. She kept on laughing till the moment where she jumped up but didn't fall down…

Tomoyo looked down. Her feet were still there, but the ground was falling away, the school buildings getting smaller and smaller. She looked over her shoulder. Sprouting right out of her back was a large pair of wings, the pinions scrawled with 'WELCOME' and 'CLASS OF'. They beat leisurely against the wind.

"Jumping activated them. Turned them from pieces of paper to – " His explanation was cut off by Tomoyo throwing her free hand around Eriol's neck and burying her head against his shoulder.

"We're going to fall, Hiiragizawa," murmured Tomoyo.

"I won't let you fall, Daidouji."

He snaked his arm around her waist. He carefully stretched out the other, bringing her arm with it. And then…

"Are you humming?" Tomoyo asked against his shoulder. They were thousands of feet in the air, about to drop to their doom at any moment and he was humming.

"Of course I'm humming," said Eriol, "Where else will I get the music for our dance."

"We're not dancing, Hiiragizawa."

"Oh yes we are," Tomoyo felt themselves spin. "If you'd only hold your head up you'd notice." Eriol went back to his humming.

Tomoyo took a deep breath and tried to stop trembling. So they were high up in the air, big deal. Birds did it all the time, they were okay, but then birds had wings. But then so did she. Eriol had started singing, some song about walking on sunshine. Tomoyo looked up and fixed her eyes firmly on his face; if she kept looking at him then she wouldn't be looking down.

Eriol noticed her gaze. "Sing with me, Daidouji-san," he said.

Tomoyo snorted. Could this get any weirder: first flying then dancing now singing. Well, why not? Hesitantly at first, but growing with confidence, she joined in. Soon she was singing with gusto. When they finished that song, she immediately launched into another one. The two of them waltzed through the air, dancing on nothing.

She collapsed with laughter against him; all the twirling and spinning had made her a bit dizzy. Eriol looked down at her and asked, "Ready for something different?"

Tomoyo had just enough time to raise her eyebrows when Eriol threw himself backwards and took her with him. Their wings folded instinctively as the pair hurtled downwards, head first, the air screaming past them. Tomoyo screamed, but it wasn't out of fear, it was out of exhilaration. The ground was looming before her, getting closer and clearer with every second, but she wasn't afraid. Falling through the sky in Eriol's arms felt completely safe.

As if on cue their wings furled open at the same time. The sudden increase in air resistance sent them out of each other's embrace but they still kept a firm hold on each other's hands. They ended their dive in a smooth arc that sent them rushing back into the air again, spinning in circles, pivoting around the other.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Their flight had sent them all the way to the Tower, the place where Sakura had received her final judgment. They perched themselves under the spire, well out of sight of the observation floor. They sat on the red steel struts and fanned their wings in the breeze, their feet dangling towards the ground. Eriol still had a firm grasp on Tomoyo's hand; partly it was to maintain the illusion back at the classroom but also because he didn't want her to fall. And it felt (he had to admit) nice to be connected to someone like this.

They weren't alone on this tower, a family of swallows had made their nest between one of the joins in the framework. Tomoyo was now watching one swallow flutter up to the nest and deposit something green in the gaping beak of a chick. Eriol noticed her wistful smile.

"Hungry for grasshoppers?" he said.

Tomoyo turned back to face him. "No," she chuckled, "I was just admiring them."

Eriol contemplated the swallows. "Yes," he said, "swallows are very good flyers, but we didn't do too bad today."

"Not that." She gazed back at the birds. "They're a family."

She seemed so sad. Eriol didn't like that. It suddenly seemed important that she be happy. He didn't know when this started to happen, when he suddenly shifted from guaranteeing her safety to ensuring her happiness. Before he was content to keeping an eye on her, now he wanted her to be smiling while he did.

"Would you mind terribly, if I was your family," Eriol said tentatively. "I mean, till your mother and Sakura-chan return."

"Does that offer include Akizuki-san and Spinel-san?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he said, his voice laden with long suffering.

She smiled. "What about Mizuki-sensei?"

Eriol stared at the horizon. "Kaho didn't stay in Tomoeda," he said "She went on to England." His voice was still full of suffering, but of a keener, more sharper kind.

"Hiiragizawa-kun, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. She sends me letters frequently, and I've still got Spinel and Nakuru." He tried to soften the conversation, "Unfortunately."

"But it's not the same. They can't fill the space Mizuki-sensei holds in your heart."

"True, but they, and the fact I know that she's happy where she is, make her absence easier to bear."

"Why didn't you go with her, Hiiragizawa-kun? You only hurt yourself by staying here."

"There is something I need to do," he said airily. "Someone needs my help."

"You are very kind, Hiiragizawa-kun, to put this person before your happiness. They must be important to you."

Eriol thought about that. At the beginning of this whole escapade he would have disagreed, Daidouji Tomoyo meant nothing to him; he did this out of responsibility, obligation, and the fact that he was the only person capable of doing so. But now, as he looked at her, her eyes brimming with empathy and understanding for him, he had to admit that that had changed. He didn't know when but he now cared what happen to her.

"Yes," he answered, "she is important."

Tomoyo didn't press him for any more details, he was grateful for her tact.

"What will you be doing tomorrow?" he asked, best to look to the future.

"Probably homework. You?"

"Same."

"You wouldn't like to come around tomorrow, would you?" she said hesitantly. "We could work on the homework together, but if you've got plans tomorrow, then I understand."

"No, I'd be happy to come over."

"Great."

The sun started to stretch the shadows across the land.

"I guess we better be going back," said Eriol.

"I had fun today Hiiragizawa-kun."

"Me too, Daidouji-san."

Hand in hand they launched themselves off the tower and into the sky.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The rose bush shook as Tomoyo severed one of the blossoms. She carefully removed the lower leaves and snapped off the sharp thorns, throwing them to the ground. She carefully placed the rose in her basket, along with all the others she had collected.

Tomoyo had spent all morning in the rose garden, methodically working her way through each bed, selecting the best blooms. Her basket was now loaded with red, pink, orange and even candy-striped roses. Soon she would make her way back to the house and arrange her spoils in all the empty rooms.

Tomoyo smiled at what her mother would have to say at all this flower gathering. Sonomi appreciated beautiful things, especially flowers, but she didn't have the patience to choose which bloom would be best. Sonomi preferred the after flowering pruning, where she could slash with abandon.

Tomoyo sighed, she didn't want to go back to the house just yet: it was too empty. That was why she was out in the garden. She had dismissed all the house staff, the maids, the gardeners and her bodyguards (with full pay of course) because she didn't want to feel as if she was bothering anybody. The downside, though, was that the house was empty.

She idly snipped a Piccadilly Rose, the yellow petals flushing orange at the tips, and thought that Eriol better appreciate all the effort she had gone through this morning, to make the house more welcoming and presentable. Maybe if she brought some flowers, a piece of the outside, the inside of the house wouldn't seem so empty and grey.

Tomoyo snapped off a thorn and found her eyes resting on the bloom. All morning the petals kept reminding her of that incident in the sewing room. She found herself imagining that the flowers would start bleeding any moment now.

That incident reminded her of all the other incidents: the pair in the classroom, the jester who wanted to watch videos. All had left cards that featured their portraits, and all had fitted perfectly in that wooden box. She couldn't just ignore them anymore; hope that they would just go away. The things they had said were hurtful; completely untrue, but hurtful all the same, and she found that their theories and accusations had stayed with her. She couldn't do her homework, make dinner or take a bath without going over all those conversations. And at night, when she was lying in bed, tucked under the covers, was just awful. Then all the fears and doubts that she buried deep inside would surface. Maybe she was worthless, useless, a nothing, unwanted and unimportant.

No, she sent that train of thought back to the station. She was worth something, she was important. How do you know, whispered the voice of doubt. Because Hiiragizawa-kun said so, she thought back. When she thought she was about to be swept away by an ocean of darkness, drown in its endless debts, though she stood in sunlight, he had given her this. She was important, he had said, and she had clung to it; if one person thought this then so could she.

Hiiragizawa-kun: maybe he could help; he was a powerful magician. Tomoyo was a bit nervous about asking for help, for being a burden, but she didn't' know who else she could turn to; everyone else had disappeared from her life. She decided that she would tell Hiiragizawa all about her strange visitors when he'd come to visit within the next half hour.

"I see my predecessors have failed."

The unexpected voice caused Tomoyo to stab her finger on a thorn. She jerked her hand away and examined the dark red bead on the tip. She turned towards the voice.

"Apparently you have found hope, little-one. Or perhaps someone gave it to you."

The speaker looked like her great-grandfather. Tomoyo knew it wasn't really her great-grandfather: that would be too much to hope for. Her great-grandfather never came to the Daidouji mansion, never came to see Sonomi or Tomoyo, he was always busy with business, or on the few times that he was on holiday he spent it at the house by the lake. No, the only people who ever came to see Tomoyo were the card people.

The man walked to her side and bent to examine a Double Delight, his dove grey pinstriped suit sliding to his movements. He turned his face to her and said, "You have a lovely garden here, my dear."

Tomoyo spun on her heel and ran.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The bell above the door jangled as Eriol stepped into the bakery. He was instantly engulfed by the smell of freshly baked bread. It seemed as if the smell of fresh bread did something to the air, make in glow golden, as if he was looking through syrup.

He stepped up to the counter. "Welcome!" said the sales person, a bubbly girl who loved bread so much she had styled her hair into two bagels on the side of her head. "How may I help you today?"

Eriol considered the assortment of bread, pastries, cakes and donuts displayed before him. "I'll take some butterfly cakes please. And some donuts."

"With or without jam?"

"Both. And some with the chocolate icing with sprinkles."

"Anything else?"

"Some chocolate brownies, and some apple Danishes and some apple pies and some mince pies."

"Anything else?"

"And some éclairs, but only two because I'm on a diet." Eriol beamed at the bemused sales person.

"Are you planning a party, sir?"

"Oh no, I'm just about to visit someone. I thought it only polite that I bring something."

The lady looked at all the foodstuffs she had to wrap. "She must be very special for you to bring so many things."

Eriol thought about that, Daidouji was special, but he'd never consider her actually special to him, yet here he was buying the whole contents of her favorite bakery, how did he know it was her favorite bakery, she had mentioned it in passing, strange that he remembered it. "Yes, she's a special friend."

While the woman packaged all the cakes and pastries into blue and white checked boxes, Eriol considered the situation between him and Daidouji Tomoyo. His embroidered bug was working perfectly: it allowed him to know not only the whereabouts of Daidouji-san but also her state of mind. So far there was nothing out of the ordinary, no magical threats or attacks were noticed. The only thing to worry about was that she seemed depressed or faded, but not as bad as before, now Eriol could sense a small spark of hope in her aura.

He was concerned about these cards, however. They seemed too much like Clow cards for it to be a coincidence. He had thought for a moment that Daidouji herself had made them, out of some desire for her own magic but he dismissed that. Tomoyo wasn't into mimicry or envy. And besides, the cards seemed too otherworldly for her to have made them, but they didn't have any magic at all.

"Here you go, sir." The lady handed him his purchases, all stacked on top of each other and tied up with string. Eriol was handing over the money when it hit him. It was like he was plunged into icy water; the bakery, the sales woman, the loaves of bread all lined on the shelves all seemed distant. Something was wrong.

The shock must have shown on Eriol's face for the sales person said, "Are you okay, sir?"

That shook Eriol out of his daze. "No, nothing's wrong," he said. He practically threw his money at the woman and said, "Keep the change." He barged out the door and broke into a run.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo ran to the front gate. She didn't want to run to the house: there was no one there to help and she had to avoid the grey empty spaces. She needed light; she needed people.

The basket kept smacking into her leg at every step, the roses jostling inside. The sound of her footsteps changed as she left the plush lawn and hit the gravel driveway. She kept running, crunching at every step. The front gate loomed into view and Tomoyo sobbed with relief.

That sob turned into a groan when she realized that someone was leaning against the supporting pillar: the fake great-grandfather. Tomoyo skidded to a stop, gravel rattling at her feet.

"Please," begged Tomoyo in a small voice, "let me go."

The man left the pillar and began to walk slowly over, as if he was taking a stroll through the park.

"I don't want to hear whatever it is you've got to say," said Tomoyo. She took a step backwards, ready to run again but knowing it was hopeless. "You can try telling me that I don't have a life or a world or a heart, but it won't work."

"I'm glad to see you've been paying attention." He kept on getting closer, no matter how many steps she took he still kept getting closer. "But I'm not here to talk about you, little one. I'm here to tell you a secret."

"I don't want to know about your secrets." He was standing right in front of her now.

"What you want doesn't come into it." The visitor stepped suddenly to her side, grabbed her arm and proceeded to pull her in the direction of the gate. Tomoyo tried to wrench herself from his grasp. He laughed and said, "But I thought you wanted to go outside."

He didn't actually lead her outside the gate, instead they stopped before it, the ornate iron bars twisting and curving before her. The fake great-grandfather shook her slightly. "Look," he commanded.

Tomoyo peered through the bars. She expected to see the street she walked along every day: the birches that lined the footpath, the Tuscan style mansion across the road that was only lived in during the holidays, the grassy verge that sprouted dandelions and crickets in the summer, but all those were gone. Instead, there was a giant oak tree, its limbs clothed in bright green.

At the base there was a girl, dressed in her school uniform. She was bouncing up and down and shouting at the tree. Tomoyo gasped: she knew that voice. She pressed herself against the bars, desperate for a closer look. Her eyes only confirmed what her ears knew from the start, the girl chucking a fit below the tree was her mother.

"Nadeshiko-chan," shouted Sonomi. "Get down. It isn't safe."

"Just a minute, Sonomi-kun." Tomoyo traced the voice back to high up in the branches. Perched precariously on a limb, returning a fledgling to its nest, was Kinomoto Nadeshiko.

Tomoyo knew what was going to happen next, her mother had told this story many times before; often priceless china was broken, once all the windows on the second floor had to be replaced. The ending never changed, but at least it was a happy ending. A happy ending for two people that is. Well, two out of three ain't bad.

"Watch your mother," said the fake great-grandfather.

Sonomi had raced to the other side of the tree when she heard the crash. Tomoyo was a silent witness as her mother's face registered concern about Nadeshiko's well being, relief that she was okay, outrage that she had landed on a man and that he was looking at her with adoration in his eyes, and then heartbreak when she realized that her Nadeshiko was looking at him the same way.

"Oh mother," Tomoyo whispered and leant her head against the bars. Sonomi just stood there as she was excluded from Nadeshiko's world, unable to share in this moment of happiness.

"Do you see?" asked the fake great-grandfather. "Sonomi thought that she would have Nadeshiko forever, but she was wrong. In one moment all her hopes and dreams of a future were destroyed."

Even though the sun was blazing, the iron bars were cold against her forehead. "Why did you show me this?"

"You need to realize that the structures we build in our lives are not permanent, that they are destined to be destroyed. And there is nothing you can do about it."

"No, I mean why. Why are you doing this to me? Who is doing this to me? Who sent you?" Under the oak tree, Sonomi had recovered and was now pulling Nadeshiko away.

"Who do you think?"

"I don't know. that's why I'm asking."

"Who do you know that has the power to do all this, to alter reality, to summon figures from cards."

"I don't know anyone who could be this cruel."

"What about that magician of yours?"

"Hiiragizawa?" She looked at the visitor. "He wouldn't do such a thing."

"Really? How well do you know him, little one? He deals with things you couldn't imagine, how can you be sure of his motives? Think about it, little one. Who decided to stay in Tomoeda unexpectedly? Who didn't want Sakura to know about his presence? Who manages to show up after every visit? Who is coming right now?"

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Eriol flew up the footpath, heading for Tomoyo's house. He had never been here before, never been in this neighborhood, never walked let alone run down this streets, never even seen the front yard of her house, but he knew exactly which corners to turn, exactly where he was suppose to be going because the pull of his magic and the sense of her in danger drew him on.

He pelted along a thick concrete wall. Just up ahead was her front gate, a line of black in the stretch of cream. In the black were two smudges of white that with every step resolved into her hands.

He skidded to a stop in front of the gate. "Daidouji-san," he gasped and went to place his hands on top of the pale white ones the gripped the iron bars so tightly. "Are you all right?"

Tomoyo snatched her hands back and stepped away from the gate. She looked at him with startled eyes and said coldly "What are you doing here, Hiiragizawa?"

"I came to see you. Remember? We were going to have lunch."

"But it's much too early." She looked at her watch but her eyes also took in her basket, specifically what was lying inside. She quickly sucked in her breath.

Eriol gripped the iron bars and leant forward. "Shall I come in, Daidouji-san? You seem a bit unwell."

Tomoyo flung something up between them. "What's this?" she demanded.

It was similar to all those cards he had seen in the sewing room, but with a different picture. This one had a picture of a tall building, like the turret of a castle or a lighthouse. The building was being struck by lightning and had a figure falling along the front. That figure was Amamiya-sama (Eriol knew all about him because of his connection to Sakura). At the bottom of the card was written 'The Tower'.

"A painting of your great-grandfather. Did you do this, Daidouji-san? It's very good." Eriol was trying to be cheerful.

"Don't play dumb, Hiiragizawa. It doesn't suit you." She waved the card in front of his face. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what, Daidouji? I'm not doing anything."

"Yes you are! For the last month I've been visited by these, these… things! I want it to stop!"

"Stop what? Daidouji, you're not making any sense."

"Don't lie to me, Hiiragizawa. Don't ever lie to me." She began walking towards the house. Eriol stretched his arms through the bars in a vain attempt to stop her.

"Daidouji, don't go."

She whirled around. "I want you to stop sending these people! I want you to stop playing these silly games! I want you out of my life." She continued her dignified walk up the path.

Eriol was left at the gate, trapped behind the swirling bars as she slipped away.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo shut the front door quickly behind her. She sank to her heels and tried to get her breathing under control. Once the blood rushing through her ears had returned back to their usual veins and arteries, she could hear the silence echoing through the empty rooms. In her hand her imitation great-grandfather mocked her as he fell from his tower, his mouth open in a scream, or was it a laugh. At her feet lay the shattered roses, petals scattered like bloody snowflakes.

She really was alone.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Eriol flung the front door open and slammed it shut behind him. He kicked off his shoes where they smacked against the wall and dropped to the floor. He stalked into the hallway.

"Oooh, yummies," cooed Nakuru as Eriol shoved the boxes of bakery goods into his arms. Nakuru could only stare blankly at his master's stiff back as Eriol stormed past him. Eriol reached the lounge room and slammed that door behind him as well.

Spinel appeared from the stairway, wondering what all the noise was about. Seeing Nakuru's bewildered face he asked, "Is anything wrong?"

"He just walked by and didn't even say I'm home."

Spinel peered around the banister at the closed lounge room door. "I guess we better see what the problem is."

Nakuru immediately bounded towards the door and turned the handle. When the door didn't budge he said, "It's stuck."

"Let me try," Spinel shifted into his Spinel Sun form and laid a coal black paw on the door. "You're right, it is stuck."

"I know how to open a door, Suppi. Maybe he wants to be alone."

Spinel Sun regarded the presence on the other side of the door. "Nobody wants to be alone," he muttered.

Spinel flared his butterfly wings and unsheathed his claws, digging them into the floorboards to steady him. He opened his jaws and fired off a bright blast of energy. The door disintegrated in a shower of splinters and – water?

Spinel Sun padded into the room; behind him Nakuru shifted into Ruby Moon. Though it was the middle of the day the lounge room was completely dark.

Something crunched under Spinel Sun's paws, sending sharp little pinpricks through his pads. He felt cold creeping on icy fingers up his legs and through his coat. In the dim light he could see his breath crystallizing as a cloud in front of him. Ice started to glaze the surface of his wings.

"Master, are you okay?" Spinel called into the darkness. No response. "I could use some light here, Ruby Moon," Spinel Sun whispered over his shoulder.

Ruby Moon waved a ball of light into being; Spinel Sun had to shut his eyes against the glare. When he was able to open them again he had to rub them is disbelief.

The room was a freezer, practically arctic. The reason it was so dark was that all the curtains had been drawn and iced shut. Every surface was covered with a patina of frost, the walls, the furniture, the potted plants in the corners. Icicles stabbed down from the ceiling and ice crystals powered the carpet. Spinel picked his way through the snow and frosted furniture to stand before Eriol.

Eriol was in the same state as the room: all his clothes were dusted with ice, his glasses covered in ferns of frost; tiny snowflakes tipped his black hair. His skin was pale, though that was usual, but his lips were blue.

Spinel looked over towards Ruby Moon. "Would you be able to make us some tea, Ruby Moon?" he said politely.

"You want me to make tea? Now? When he's like this?"

"Yes, please. And bring some of those doughnuts we got today."

Ruby Moon spun on his heel and swept from the room, muttering about how males were so incomprehensible.

When Ruby Moon had left, Spinel turned back to his master. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about, or do I have to guess?"

The ice sculpture said nothing.

"Okay then," said Spinel. "Since you should be with Daidouji-san at this moment, and obviously you are not, I'll presume this is about her." Ice began to quickly form around Spinel's legs, racing up the paws. "And judging from this chilly reception," Spinel chuckled slightly at his joke, " you are not happy with her. She said something, did something?" Spinel fished.

The ice around Eriol's mouth crumbled slightly. Spinel cocked an ear towards his master. "Sorry, I didn't catch that, Eriol-sama."

Through a layer of ice, Eriol said, "She said I was hurting her."

"Hurting how, exactly?"

"By sending cards to her."

"What kind of cards? Birthday or playing?" It was best to be a bit irreverent when talking to Eriol. Getting him angry was the best way to snap him out of the gloom.

"Clow cards," Eriol said with irritation. "Or at least things that look like Clow cards."

Eriol sighed and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging ice crystals. Water began dripping off icicles as the atmosphere began to thaw. He began to explain things to Spinel.

"Today, she showed me this card and said that I sent it to her. I've seen similar cards with her, but I thought nothing of it. Now it seems that these cards are responsible for her misery."

"This is very serious, Eriol-sama." Spinel beat his wings, partly in alarm and partly to warm them up. "If these cards are trying to undermine Daidouji-san, trying to destroy her hope, then she is in danger. We both know that if a person loses hope they lose all. You were right to stay here."

"You're missing the point, Spinel. She thinks I'm the one who's behind all this."

"But you're not," Spinel Sun stated.

"Of course I'm not," Eriol exploded. "I know that, you know that, Ruby Moon making tea in the kitchen knows that. But Daidouji doesn't know that."

"But when you tell…"

"Tell her? She doesn't give me a chance. She thinks I'm an evil, manipulative, vile, untruthful, power-hungry, cruel, malicious, spiteful, merciless monster."

"And that's what bothers you isn't it," Spinel said quietly. "That Daidouji-san would think you a monster."

Eriol leant forward and hissed, "I have given everything for her and she still pushes me away. After all I have done for her, she should be grateful. I have given my life for her. Does she think I want to be here, watching over her, making sure she's happy? She should be begging me for my guardianship." His voice became cold, and it was like winter had returned to the room. "No more. If those dark forces want her so badly they can have her. I want nothing to do with Daidouji. She is nothing to me."

"Tea's ready," Ruby Moon said brightly. He slipped slightly as he stepped in a puddle, but managed to recover.

"Ruby Moon," Eriol commanded. "Put down that tea and go pack our bags. We're going home to England."


	6. The Devil & Temperance

**Disclaimer: **_Insert standard disclaimer here._

**The Tomoeda Arcana**

**Chapter Five: The Devil & Temperance**

The street was quiet in front of the Hiiragizawa mansion; there wasn't even a breeze to rattle the leaves and blossoms. You would have thought it was a ghost town had there not been two people standing on the footpath. Nakuru was a bundle of nervous energy, continuously glancing from Spinel, who was lodged in Nakuru's handbag, then to Eriol, then to the suitcases and then down the street.

"I'm sure I packed everything," muttered Nakuru. "Did I forget anything, Suppi-chan?"

"How would I know if you forgot anything," said Spinel. "And don't call me Suppi-chan," he said blankly. His heart wasn't up to the usual bickering with Nakuru. Both of the guardians turned uneasy eyes towards their master.

Eriol stood a few paces away, stance completely straight, staring so intently at the mailbox across the road that the paint had started to blister. Eriol had been up the whole night, using magic to purchase tickets on such short notice. He hadn't even blinked when Nakuru, saying that he had packed all of Eriol's good clothes, had handed him a novelty t-shirt. Eriol knew passive-aggressiveness when he saw it but he was so impatient to leave that he let it slide. He now stood on the footpath, waiting for the taxi, melting a mailbox while wearing a t-shirt that had been printed with a smiley cow. Nakuru and Spinel would be laughing if they weren't so nervous.

The group exploded into action when a taxi rumbled up. Eriol wrenched open the door and hopped into the back seat; Nakuru and the driver could deal with the suitcases. Finally he was on his way.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo had fled her house. She needed to get away from all the silence and stillness, which was starting to find its way into her throat and suffocate her. The garden had been just as bad: it was no longer a haven of colour and life, all she saw now was blooms that would soon wither and rot.

She had instinctively decided that she had to get away and the further from her house the better. She was half way to Sakura's place when she realised that there would be no one there, just another empty house with empty spaces. Instead, she made her way to the market district. There would be plenty of people there; they would chase the silence away.

She turned a corner and came face to face with a parade. Tomoyo brightened, a parade would surely banish all thoughts of gloom and darkness. She eagerly plunged into the crowd.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Eriol jerked forward in his seatbelt as the taxi ground to a stop. He tapped the driver's shoulder.

"Why have we stopped?" said Eriol.

The driver waved a hand at the road in front. "Parade," he grunted, "but don't worry, I'll get you to the airport in time."

"Tanabata," squealed Nakuru and placed his handbag against the window so that Spinel could see as well. "Could we go, Eriol-sama? We've never been –" Nakuru's train of excitement was derailed by Eriol's stony stare. Nakuru went back to staring out the window, but more quietly this time.

Eriol slumped back into his seat. He debated with himself if he should magic them to the other side of this traffic jam, but then the driver would surely notice and Eriol would have to alter his memory, something that was loaded with danger. No, it would be easier to wait this parade out.

He suddenly gripped the armrest as a dagger of ice stabbed down his spine. So Daidouji was encountering another visitor. He pushed the pain and all thoughts of Daidouji from his mind; she could fight her own battles.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo wandered through the crowd, the multi-coloured streamers and lanterns whirling overhead, the pounding drumbeats echoing all around. People were smiling and laughing all around her.

Tomoyo had been mistaken; the parade hadn't chased the loneliness away. It had made it worse. Though people swirled about her she still felt alone. She was like an island, adrift in a sea of noise and colour and happiness.

She aimlessly picked her way between the back of the crowd and the line of stores. She gracefully sidestepped a mother with screaming triplets when the door to the shop in front of her slammed open and out burst two people. Both were wearing giant animal costumes and both were stuffing themselves with jam doughnuts.

"Oooh, this is so yummy," said the one dressed like a red fox, pointy ears perked up demonically and bushy tail lashing from side to side.

"Mmmm mmm," mumbled her companion, who was dressed like a white rabbit, the long ears swaying back and forth as he moved his head.

For all their get up, Tomoyo recognised them immediately. "Akizuki-san, Tsukishiro-san," she greeted. Tomoyo seized the six-foot tall rabbit. "Did the excavation finished early? Is that why you're back so soon? Is Sakura-chan here as well?"

At the sound of Tomoyo's voice the animals paused in their scoffing of jam doughnuts. As one they swivelled their eyes to Tomoyo and stretched grins across their faces. Practically mirror images they gulped down the last of their doughnuts and grabbed one of Tomoyo's arms.

"Of course Sakura's here," said the fox on her left as she pulled Tomoyo down the street.

"Let's see if we can find her," said the rabbit, with a firm grip on her right arm.

As their glove covered paws got tighter and tighter, Tomoyo realised that she had made a mistake.

"Not again," wailed Tomoyo. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" She tried to wrench herself from their grasp.

"Nah ah ah," the rabbit playfully scolded. Tomoyo tried to drag her heels but was relentlessly dragged along. "We have to find Sakura."

They had been travelling at a quick walk/slow jog before, but now they started running. Tomoyo shut her eyes: surely they were about to crash into that group of high schoolers up ahead. When the crash didn't come Tomoyo opened her eyes and was greeted by the surreal experience of running straight through all the bystanders. The people all around her started to fade, as if all the colours had been leeched out of them, leaving only pencil outlines. Soon, they had vanished all together and the trio were pelting down an empty street.

"There she is," shouted the fox. Up ahead was a figure, running just as hard as Tomoyo and her companions. Her short auburn hair swished with every step. Her black turtleneck was something to focus on against the pastel streets of Tomoeda. She ran awkwardly due to the stuffed bear that was lodged under her arm. Tomoyo would have recognised that girl anywhere.

It was Sakura.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The icy dagger that had embedded itself in Eriol's spine had now sprouted tendrils that snaked their way up into his brain. He tried to massage the pain away, but it was no use.

"You're not going to get carsick, are you?" the driver asked nervously.

"No, it's nothing," said Eriol. He was right: it was nothing. Daidouji Tomoyo was nothing. He should be able to ignore the pounding in his head; it would be gone soon.

"Eriol-sama," said Nakuru, "maybe we should go back to the house."

"I said it was nothing. I'm fine."

"But what about Daidouji-san," Spinel muttered from his hiding place, thinking Eriol couldn't hear him.

Eriol bit his lip as a wave of pain swept over him. Tomoyo would be fine. Those shadowy forces hadn't actually hurt her. Yet, he corrected, they hadn't hurt her yet. And though they hadn't hurt her physically, emotionally they had done a lot of damage and Eriol knew that wounds to the metaphorical heart were just as deadly as wounds to the actual one.

"Eriol, where are you going!" cried Nakuru as his master wrenched open the door and exploded out of the taxi. Nakuru scrambled across the back seat and stuck his head out. "Eriol," he shouted as Eriol weaved around the parked cars and headed towards the parade.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

"Quickly, Tomoyo," shouted Nakuru-Fox as the trio pursued Sakura down the street. "If we catch her we can stop her telling Syaoran that she loves him. Then we can have her for ourselves."

"We don't want to stop Sakura-chan," yelled Yukito-Rabbit. "We want to help her achieve happiness. Her happiness will be our happiness and we will be happy too."

"NO!" Nakuru-Fox accelerated, dragging the others with her. "Sakura will forget all about us. We will be all alone, in an empty house, with no friends or family. Sakura's happiness is not enough, we want our own happiness now."

"We must not be selfish. If the price of happiness is someone else's, then the price is too high."

"Sakura is all we have. For our sake, we will not let her go."

"Sakura is all we love. For her sake, we must let her go."

The rabbit and the fox seemed to be running too slowly for Tomoyo: she was now a step in front of them, dragging them behind her. The animals suddenly let go and Tomoyo shot forward. She pelted after the figure that was running after the bus.

"Sakura…" Tomoyo gasped.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

"Daidouji," muttered Eriol, as he scanned the crowd. She was here, somewhere; he could feel it; the tiny black sun on the hem of her clothes beckoned him on.

Overhead, the lanterns danced like giant squid, the multicoloured tentacles swirling as they paraded down the street. The people seemed to crowd around him, blocking his path and swamping his senses. The drums pounded in his ears, the parade floats swirled in front of his eyes. He had no idea where he was, where he'd been or where he was going. All he knew was that the ache in his mind was getting stronger and that Tomoyo was somewhere up ahead.

He left the crowd and stepped into the parade.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo ran after Sakura. She didn't know if the Nakuru-fox and Yukito-rabbit were still behind her and she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the person in front. A person that no matter how hard or how fast Tomoyo ran was always out of reach.

A sharp stitch stabbed her side but Tomoyo ignored it. A part of her knew that she couldn't keep this pace up for long. She had never been athletic, never did well at sports. Her mother was the athlete, her mother could run like the wind, and apparently so could Sakura.

Ahead, Sakura was closing in on the bus. She had managed to run along side and was now reaching up to the window.

"Wait," gasped Tomoyo. She didn't know to whom that was directed. Did she want Sakura to wait for her or was Tomoyo supposed to wait for this whole exchange to be over. Her brain didn't seem to be functioning; her head was full of pounding blood, keeping time with her pounding feet.

Suddenly, miraculously, Sakura stopped, right in the middle of the road. It was too quick for Tomoyo to react; she couldn't slow down or even swerve. Instead she ran straight into Sakura.

And passed right through.

The shock was enough to slow Tomoyo to a halt. She couldn't do anything to slow her heartbeat though. She swung to face her friend. Sakura was staring straight through her, gazing dreamily at the diminishing bus. Sakura said something to herself, her lips forming words that Tomoyo couldn't hear but could understand all the same.

"Syaoran is the one I love the most."

Tomoyo's world exploded.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Eriol weaved his way through the parade. He vaulted on top of one of the floats and sidled his way around the edge, sweeping streamers away from his face while trying to keep his balance. He made his way to the very front. The float lumbered along like an elephant, just as heavy and just as unstoppable.

As he peered at the front of the parade, Eriol knew he was on the right track. Tomoyo was getting closer with every second. It felt as if she was right here beside him.

His eyes dropped to the front of the float, where dancers twirled and flashed their fans. The pain in his head had been getting stronger when suddenly it vanished. He winced and that was when he saw her. A second ago that space had contained nothing but discarded wish papers, now Daidouji Tomoyo stood there, popping in from out of nowhere.

And she was about to be crushed by the float.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Her world exploded. It exploded in a burst of noise and colour. She couldn't process, let alone respond, to all this information. She could only stand dumbly as a tower of lanterns and bells slowly bore down on her.

Suddenly she was wrenched upwards to come face to face with a goofy looking cow. She jerked back in shock but then realised that it was only a picture, a picture printed on a t-shirt. She looked up to see who had saved her.

Him.

"Get away from me," Tomoyo said as she backed away from Eriol. "I told you to stop it. I told you to leave me alone."

They were standing on top of the parade float, being marched down the street like local heroes. Streamers started to tangle in her hair and twine around her arms.

"Daidouji, I'm not the one who's doing this." He reached out to her and she flinched. He slowly drew his hand back. "I only want to help."

"I don't want your help. I don't need your help," she yelled. "I only want this to stop." She pivoted and leapt lightly off the float. She dove into the crowd and let it swallow her.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Eriol was helpless to stop her from leaving. The mental dagger, his search for Tomoyo and his lack of sleep the previous night had begun to take their toll. He was exhausted; it took all his effort to clamber from the float.

"Eriol-sama," said Nakuru as he rushed to his side. Eriol winced at the volume in Nakuru's voice and how tightly he gripped his arm. "Why did you run off like that? I had to leave our suitcases at a local café. They've probably stolen all my clothes by now."

Spinel nimbly leapt from Nakuru's shoulder to Eriol's, not caring if anyone saw him. "We've been looking all over for you." Spinel lightly touched Eriol's cheek. "You don't seem too good. What have you been doing?"

"Just take me home," Eriol muttered.

"That's where we were going," Nakuru said with exasperation, "But we can't go to England now: we've missed our flight."

"I think he meant the mansion," said Spinel.

Eriol was now leaning heavily against Nakuru. Nakuru looked down at his master with concern. Exchanging a look with Spinel, he asked, "Do you think we should transform and fly him back?"

Spinel thought to himself for a moment. "No," he said, "we don't want to drain any magic out of him in this condition. You're going to have to carry him the way you are."

Nakuru immediately positioned Eriol onto his back, piggyback style. On one shoulder perched Spinel while on the other lolled Eriol's head. Nakuru then set off to the mansion. Though the streets were still crowded with people, only the two guardians heard what their master muttered.

"I have to help her. Help her…"

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo ran all the way home. She was a complete mess. Her hair had been knotted by the wind and was now slicked to her sweaty scalp. She had two stitches now, one in each side, but that didn't stop her from running. She crashed inside the house, slamming the door behind her. Every time she tried to escape this place she always kept running back.

Something fell out of her pocket. She looked down to find Nakuru and Yukito staring at her from the floorboards. Nakuru was clad in blood red robes and stood menacingly over the words 'The Devil'. Yukito was fixed above the words 'Temperance' and was dressed in vibrant white robes.

Tomoyo left the cards on the floor and rushed through the house, seeking comfort, seeking sanctuary. She scrambled up the stairs, slipping as she reached the top and falling on her knee. She pulled herself up and made her way to her room, locking the door and wedging a chair under the handle. She wasn't sure how that was supposed to help, but they always did it in the movies.

Movies. Tomoyo ran to the door that led to her media room. Her videos had always managed to cheer her up, chase all the dark thoughts away.

She stood in front of the shelves of videos. Sakura Captures the Jump Card. Sakura Captures the Fly Card. No, for once she didn't want to watch a video of Sakura. She kept searching. Sakura Transforms Windy. Sakura Transforms Glow. No, no, NO.

Tomoyo began to fling each video to the floor. CRACK went Sakura's Race at the Sports Carnival. SMACK followed Tea at Sakura's House. Tomoyo began to get desperate; she savagely threw three tapes of Sakura at the park to the floor. The tapes began to pile up at her feet and she viciously kicked them aside. Still nothing, other than Sakura, Sakura, SAKURA.

Tomoyo swept her hand along the shelf, dislodging lines of tape and sending them clattering to the floor. She did the same with the two top shelves and used her feet with the bottom three. Tomoyo looked down at the wreckage of cassettes in triumph, but the sight of those forlorn little boxes left her hollow, gone was the feeling of exultation at sending those tapes to the floor.

She started to stamp on a video. Her foot jarred as it met the casing. After three increasingly violent stamps the black plastic finally cracked. Tomoyo started on another one. After ten tapes, her foot started to go numb.

She dropped to the floor and tried to pull the tapes apart by hand. She ripped of the cardboard covers, tearing them to pieces. She stuck her nails in the seam of the cassette and tried to prise apart the two halves. She tore two nails before moving on to the hinged piece. She snapped that off and threw it to the side.

The actual tape lay exposed now, a dark shiny ribbon. Tomoyo pulled the tape out with a jerk. A black ribbon spooled out, curling with every meter of tape that was added. Tomoyo reached the end of the tape with a sudden flourish that sent her arm flying. She tossed the now empty cassette to the side and repeated the process on the next one.

And the next one.

And the one after that.

Soon, curls of glistening black snakes surrounded Tomoyo. They coiled and twisted around each other, an eye melting tangle. But that still wasn't enough.

Her eyes alighted on her sewing basket; she sometimes did some mending while she watched videos. She tipped the basket upside-down scattering the contents on the floor: pincushion, threads, buttons, needles.

Scissors.

She snatched the scissors up and hacked at the coils of tape. She snipped and struck savagely. The air became thick with little pieces of black; they fluttered and flew through the air like snow. She didn't stop till all of the tape was destroyed.

And it still wasn't enough.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

By the time Nakuru had managed to get them all home, Eriol was practically unconscious but he refused to be taken to his room. Instead he had insisted on being taken to his armchair in the living room. He now sat there, head propped in his hands, shivering slightly with exhaustion. Spinel and Nakuru hovered with concern at his side.

"Leave me," said Eriol and waved a hand in the direction of the door.

"No," Nakuru burst out, "You need us. We're not going to abandon you."

Spinel fluttered towards Eriol. "Master, perhaps it would be better –" Eriol cut him off with a gesture.

"I said: leave me. What part don't you understand?" He threaded his voice with a hint of menace. The guardians understood that while their master may be tired for the moment his temper surely wasn't. They slowly walked out of the room, looking over their shoulders with every step.

Once the lock clicked into place, Eriol got to work. He knew that Tomoyo still needed his assistance: that much was obvious from the emotional wreck she had become. Something had left her heart bruised and torn. There were things out there that would take advantage of her present condition.

Tomoyo wouldn't have allowed Eriol within meters of her, and Eriol wasn't going to force that. He still had to help her though, and since he couldn't do that physically then he'd have to do it spiritually.

With that thought, Eriol launched himself onto the astral plane. His living room vanished into a golden expanse of the wheat field. He slowly turned in a circle, seeking Tomoyo via the black sun. Two-thirds into his turn he stopped: she was that way. He looked in the direction that he felt his marker calling him. Curling above the horizon was a thin plume of smoke.

Eriol started to run through the wheat field.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Clutching the scissors, Tomoyo walked through her bedroom and into her walk-in wardrobe. Only half of the clothes in here were hers, the rest were all the costumes she had made for Sakura.

She grabbed a bunch of gaudy costumes at random and pulled them off their hangers. She carried them out of the wardrobe and dumped them on her bedroom floor. She then went back for the rest, not bothering to leave the wardrobe this time, just throwing them out the door.

There was a mountain of clothes by the time Tomoyo stepped out of the wardrobe. She opened the scissors with a snikt, the sound flashing through the room like lightning.

She attacked the clothes. Silk, velvet, cotton and linen fell before those blades. Corduroy ribs were broken, reams of lace were reduced to threads, sequins and buttons were cut from their moors. The bat-like costume? That pile of black scraps over there. The one with the pink pom-poms? Over there with the remains of the clover costume and over there with what's left of the yellow sun-dress and over there with the Arabian Nights inspired one.

She didn't stop till the dresses had been reduced to what the tapes were now. But while the media room was filled with shards of black, her bedroom was filled with broken rainbows.

It still wasn't enough.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

As Eriol ran through the wheat field, the plume of smoke got thicker and darker. There was also the sound of buzzing in the air; it grated on his teeth. He had a suspicion of what he would find up ahead, and he dearly hoped that he was wrong.

The source of the smoke came into focus. It was Tomoyo.

Flames leapt about her, they crept along her skin and threaded her hair. She didn't seem aware that she was burning. In her hand she held a sickle and used it to thrash the surrounding stalks of wheat. She struck out blindly and with no apparent thought to her actions.

The cause of the fire was the hundreds of bees that crawled all over her. Each bee was its own little flame that stung her flesh and lit her clothes. Tomoyo made no effort to brush them away.

Anger bees were common in the wheat field. They represented the destructive, violent forces of the astral plane. Usually, a person could repel them with a clear mind and happy heart, but if that heart was broken, then the bees would strike. They would pour their poison into the victim's soul, feeding thoughts of violence and destruction, till their victim destroyed themselves.

Eriol stopped just outside Tomoyo's circle of destruction. The bees would ignore him as they had better prey on their hands. The usual way of quelling the anger bees was to smother them with calm.

Taking a cue from the bees' actual appearance, Eriol conjured a cloud of smoke before him. It took the form of a butterfly and fluttered over to the burning figure of Tomoyo. The smoke was light blue, flecked with speckles of white and flashes of gold. It reached Tomoyo and folded its wings around her, shielding her from view. The figure of Tomoyo was completely shrouded in blue smoke that began to turn purple. The smoke then dissipated leaving Tomoyo and no anger bees at all.

Yet though the bees had gone, Tomoyo was still full of anger. She continued to slash at the wheat.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo sat on her heels and idly drove the scissors into the carpet. She had been staring into the middle distance but then her eyes suddenly focused on her bedside table.

The plain wooden box her father gave her sat there, but that wasn't what had drawn her eye. Next to it was another box, this one was a shiny crystal. This box was beloved not only by Tomoyo but also by her mother. This box contained memories.

Tomoyo lunged at the table and grabbed the box eagerly. The key was, as always, in the lock, but she twisted it savagely and snapped it in two. She dropped the scissors and tried to prise the lid off. It wouldn't budge.

With a scream she threw the box against the wall. It shattered in an explosion of glass and Nadeshiko flowers, a storm of glitter and pink, tears and blood.

Gleaming in the wreckage, completely out of place in the broken beauty of crystal shards and petals, lay a tiny bag. Crawling on her hands and knees, Tomoyo made her way to the wall. She picked up the bag and tried to undo the knot, but her hands were shaking so much that she made no progress. Twisting around she picked up her trusty scissors and slashed the bag open.

On to the carpet fell a tiny eraser, a smiling rabbit with pristine white ears. The cheerful face laughed up at her. How could a piece of stationery be so happy when she was breaking inside?

Holding the scissors like a dagger she stabbed at the smiling visage. The blades lodged themselves in an eye and she had to stab a few extra times before the eraser crumbled. She took great satisfaction in hunting each piece down and stabbing it into smaller and smaller pieces. She was left with tiny crumbs of eraser embedded in the carpet and caking her palms.

And it still wasn't enough.

The sunlight drew a star along the blades of the scissors. Funny, she never realised how very sharp they were...

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The bees had been with her for too long. Either that or her anger had been great enough to begin with. She had given up slashing the wheat and knelt in the middle of her own personal crop circle.

She held the sickle before her, at eye level. It didn't shine like a metal sickle would, it gleamed a dull creamy white. Eriol suddenly realised that it was made of bone. The thought chilled him for a moment.

Tomoyo slowly brought the blade to her throat.

Eriol didn't even bother to shout, he saved his breath for diving forward to grab her wrists, wrenching the sickle away from her neck. She twisted away from him but he managed to keep one hand on hers. He brought the other around her so that she was now caged in the circle of his arms and they both held the sickle before them. She kept trying to bring the blade towards her and he kept trying to force it away. He rested his chin on her shoulder and wrenched the sickle back. He was tiring though.

The blade began to inch closer and closer.

Maybe it was because he was exhausted, maybe it was because he was delusional, but Eriol started to sing. He sang the songs that they sang when they were dancing on air, flying on paper wings. It seemed so long ago now, but it was only two days ago.

Trapped in his arms, music falling on her ears, she started to relax. Slowly the sickle crept away from the both of them till it suddenly vanished and they were left holding nothing but each other.

Eriol rocked them back and forth, the stalks of wheat swaying in sympathy. After a while Tomoyo started singing too, hesitantly at first but with rising confidence. Soon she had meshed her voice with his and it seemed like there was only one person singing in the wheat field.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo threw the scissors away and collapsed onto the carpet. Her bed was right next to her but she just couldn't make the effort to get up and climb in. She was so tired.

As her heartbeat started to slow she allowed herself to listen to the sounds of the house. She hadn't heard anything while on her rampage of destruction, but now, in the quiet after the hurricane, she was sure she could hear singing.

Tomoyo closed her eyes and allowed the song to wash over her. It welled up just behind her ear, a comforting presence. After a moment she started to sing along, under her breath. Curled up on the carpet, head pillowed on her arm, Tomoyo fell asleep.

And maybe she dreamed it, but it felt as if someone was holding her.


	7. Death & The Hanged Man

**Disclaimer: **_Insert standard disclaimer here._

**The Tomoeda Arcana**

**Chapter Six: Death and the Hanged Man**

The first thing that she was aware of was the floor. What had seemed so comfortable and inviting last night was now anything but. It seemed keen to drive her shoulder blade into her spine and brand the weave of the carpet on her face.

Though she was uncomfortable and every step towards consciousness highlighted more aches and pains, Tomoyo didn't want to move. She stayed there on the floor, blinking her eyes against the rosy pink walls of her room.

Strange, she could have sworn her walls were white. It took a while for her sleep-fuddled mind to realise that the colour change had occurred because the sun was shining on them. She must have woken with the dawn. So she had a whole day ahead of her, there was no rush to get up.

She idly fingered the hem of her blouse, filling her thoughts with nothing important; what if milk was blue, would we still put it on cornflakes; would eyes in the back of her head be useful, stuff like that. She didn't want to remember the emotional roller coaster she had just been on.

As her fingers ran along a line of stitches, she noticed something. Searching by touch she ran her fingers back again till they reached the snag. It was next to the side seam. She rubbed it against her thumb and tried to figure out what it was, all without the benefit of sight.

It was the size of her fingernail and it was raised slightly from the fabric. It felt like embroidery, but why would anyone want to embroider the hem of a blouse. She figured that it was just the tail end of a thread, caught up in all the stitches when the blouse was made.

Satisfied with her answer she shifted her attention to the carpet. It was like its own little world. She could imagine there were little people living in there and they'd build little cities and – Nope, no good, she had to make sure she was right. She propped herself up on an elbow and peered closely at her discovery.

It stood out starkly against her blouse, a black spider on a yellow background. Flicking her hair out of the way and bending closer to the fabric, she realised that it wasn't a spider but a sun.

Speaking of suns, the one outside should be up now, so why had her room actually gotten darker? Tomoyo looked over her bed to get a view of the window and frowned when she realised that it was completely dark outside. The sun hadn't been rising at all; it had been setting. She had spent a whole night and day asleep on her bedroom floor. She decided to go get changed.

After her shower, she stood inside her walk-in wardrobe. It was quite empty now as most of its contents was scattered on the floor, in scraps no bigger than a postcard. Her own clothes were huddled in the back corner, like frightened mice.

Tomoyo reached for the closest one, as she slipped it off the hanger her eyes were caught by a little black dot against the red fabric. It was another of those black suns.

On a hunch Tomoyo grabbed the next item of clothing and checked that. As she expected there was another sun. It was the same for the next shirt, and the skirt after that, and the dresses, and the jackets, even her school uniform hadn't been spared. With every sun she uncovered a suspicion grew in Tomoyo's mind. She realised who used the sun as his symbol. Hiiragizawa Eriol.

The wardrobe contained only swaying coat hangars now, Tomoyo hadn't bothered to return her clothes back to their original place and they now lay crumpled on the floor. She looked into her dresser drawers and gave a small sigh. Apparently her socks and underwear were immune from this rash of black suns.

Still clad in her bathrobe, Tomoyo sat on the edge of her bed. Despite having as much magic as a wooden spoon she did know quite a bit of the subject. When Sakura had first begun getting involved with the cards, Tomoyo had decided she should read up on magic. Knowledge was always useful, even if you didn't have the ability and it may have helped Sakura.

So she had read all about charms and spells. She studied the slight of hand magic you found on television, fortune telling via palms, faces, cards and even love potions. What she recalled now was all the stuff she had read on sympathetic magic, that if you had something of your victim, a favourite procession, a hair or even their signature, you could influence them. Perhaps it worked the other way, if someone planted something on you then they could influence you, like make them hallucinate and drive them crazy.

A small part of her was insisting that she should be mad at all this. How dare someone manipulate her in this way, how dare they plant all these doubts in her mind. But the only thing Tomoyo felt was intense weariness, despite all her time asleep she was suddenly tired, she just wanted this to be over.

She still wasn't going to make this easy for Hiiragizawa. If she didn't wear those suns then he would have to find another way to work his magic over her.

Prodding a scrap of satin with her toe, she mused that she should have left at least one of Sakura's costumes for her to wear. She couldn't remember seeing any suns on those clothes, but with the state she was in she wasn't sure if she was capable of noticing anything. Maybe she could use something of her mother's – no, maybe there was something after all.

Tomoyo walked over to the media room, her movement set up eddies that sent the shreds of black tape swirling around her feet. She carefully stepped over the pincushion and measuring tape. She gently picked up a bundle that was draped over the armrest and carried it back to her bedroom; tape fluttering in her wake.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

There was a drawn out creak punctuated with a foundation shaking crash. Small metallic pings and the _whomp-whomp_ of a revolving plate were heard soon after.

Nakuru and Spinel rushed to the recently-resurrected-from-obliteration lounge-room door. They stared at each other in trepidation as muffled thumps and curses seeped under the door. Spinel winced at a particularly loud smash, while Nakuru bit his lip at what sounded like the ottoman being kicked across the room.

The door cracked open and a red-rimmed eye peered out.

"What time is it?" the eye whispered.

Nakuru glanced at the grandfather clock. "About six-ish."

"In the morning?"

"Ah, no, at night," Spinel replied.

The door opened wider and Eriol appeared, slumped against the doorframe. His clothes and hair were a perfect match: thoroughly crumpled; the smiling cow now looked as if it had been hit by a truck. The same could be said about Eriol. He rubbed his eyes, knocking his glasses askew.

"Would you like something to eat, Eriol-sama?" Nakuru ventured.

Eriol pushed himself away from the frame and tottered unsteadily down the hall. "No thankyou, Nakuru," he said as he reached the front door. "It's best if I check on Daidouji-san."

He then slipped outside, the door clicking resolutely behind him.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Night wasn't the only thing that had descended upon Tomoeda. A mist had decided to visit too. Clouds now stalked the streets, lurking in doorways, clinging to walls. It smothered the streetlamps, muffling the glow; shadow lights were all that was left to show the way.

Tomoyo walked through all of this, the mist cold and clammy against her skin, opaque and grey against her eyes. This must be what the inside of a watercolor painting was like, everything dissolving into the air.

Memory was her map as she walked down the streets, not that she was going anywhere in particular. No, she was just out for a stroll. A stroll that could lead anywhere since she couldn't see where she was going; she could easily step into another world and not notice a thing.

She hadn't been completely thorough on yesterday's rampage: one dress had managed to make it through unscathed. It was originally suppose to be one of Sakura's battle costumes, but Tomoyo had only finished it recently, too late for Sakura to wear it. So it had sat safely on the sofa while all the other dresses had been ravaged by the scissors.

Tomoyo wore it now, after a systematic inspection for any black suns. It was made of black velvet and had been embroidered with thousands of glass beads. (This was why it had taken so long to make.) It gave the overall effect of a star covered sky.

A car flashed along beside her, the headlights passing like a comet and striking sparks off her dress. Tomoyo kept walking and after a while the murmur of the car engine had faded, leaving just the tap of her footsteps on the path.

A sign loomed out of the mist, the metal arcing from one pillar to another: Tomoeda Park.

Tomoyo glided in, her hand lightly scraping the brickwork. The lamps up ahead were dying suns, partially illuminating the roundabout, the seesaw. The king penguin was just a shapeless mass, a leviathan in this foggy sea.

She found herself at the swings. The metal chains clinked slightly as she sat down and carefully arranged her skirt, the beads glistening softly under her hand. She stayed there, suspended, clouds whirling all around.

She was completely unprepared for the push that sent her flying.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

When he reached the front door he knew it was useless. The house was completely deserted. He may be exhausted but he still had enough magic to know if a place was inhabited or not.

Eriol turned on his heel and surveyed his path before him. Tomoeda was there, behind those clouds and so was Tomoyo.

He stepped into the mist.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Tomoyo thought she would end up flying into nothing, but then the swing stalled and sent her back the way she came. Another push came at the other end of the arc to begin the process again.

She clutched the chain and looked over her shoulder to see who was pushing her. All she saw was a cloaked figure, the face obscured by a hood. Tomoyo turned back to the front and surrendered to the rhythmic motion of the swing.

After a while, (it could have been a moment stretched out to eternity, or eternity packed into a moment), the figure stopped and Tomoyo swung to a standstill.

The figure stood in front, a little bit to the left; Tomoyo could have kicked it without having to move from the swing. The cloak was the deepest black, as if someone had cut a hole in the fabric of space. In one hand the figure clutched a scythe, the blade a silver slash in the lamplight.

"So are you the real Death or just one of those card people?" Tomoyo laughed.

The figure pulled back the hood; lengths of red hair fell forward to frame the face of Mizuki-sensei.

"I knew I couldn't be that lucky," grumbled Tomoyo.

"And is that what you want?" asked the fake Mizuki-sensei. "To die?"

Tomoyo stared into the mist. "I just want it to stop," she whispered.

Death-Mizuki smiled. "It won't stop until you've let go."

"Let go of what?" Tomoyo said with exasperation.

"Everything," stated a new voice.

The owner was on Tomoyo's right. Instead of the companion swing there was, suspended by his feet, a man. He wore tatty Hessian trousers and his upper body was bound in a straightjacket. He fidgeted uselessly in his bindings, his brown hair swishing with every slight movement. Though the mist made recognition difficult, this visitor was meant to look like Sakura's brother, Touya.

"Everything," he repeated. "Life, love, friends, family, this world and the others that will come." Death-Mizuki nodded at every word. Hanged-Touya continued, "But chiefly you have to give up hope."

"It's a nasty little creature, Tomoyo-chan," said Death-Mizuki. "Just let it go."

"But–" Tomoyo began, but was interrupted by Hanged-Touya, who shook his head so violently he ended up spinning in a circle.

"Don't argue," he said (in two revolutions). "You still think that things will get better, that there will be light at the end of this tunnel. Well I'm telling you that it's not going to happen. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

"Things will never be alright, Tomoyo-chan," Death-Mizuki said kindly.

"Nah," said Handed-Touya with disgust, "we're just wasting our time. She's too much like her mother."

"What do you know about my mother?" she asked quickly.

"I know she didn't like to lose," Hanged-Touya shot back. "And that she hurt many people in some pathetic attempt to reclaim what she had lost."

"My mother has never hurt anyone," Tomoyo shouted, her voice muffled by the fog.

"There's that hope again," he said with contempt. "Always thinking the best of people."

Death-Mizuki intervened. "Perhaps it would be best if we showed you."

She reached into her robe and drew out an hourglass. She tossed it into the air where it stayed, spinning gently. Small golden sparks fell from the casing and swirled around the hourglass. It was a vortex of light that got brighter and brighter with each revolution till the whole park was bleached white.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The light congealed into hundreds of dancing yellow lights. One of them flew towards Tomoyo and alighted on her outstretched hand.

"Fireflies," she murmured.

It left her finger and went back to join the others. They dotted the evening landscape, some swarmed in the sky above while others clustered in the trees and grasses.

Tomoyo and her two companions were still by the swings, Tomoyo never having left her seat during that light show. The mist was still around, but up ahead, instead of playground equipment, was a festival, the fairy lights and lanterns mirroring the glow of the fireflies.

The nearest booth was a refreshment stand. A young boy and his parents were buying ice creams. The boy rode high on his father's shoulders, idly fiddling with his glasses. His father had one hand safely around his son's leg, keeping him securely in place, while the other was tightly wrapped around his wife, keeping her close.

"Recognise anyone, Tomoyo?" whispered Death-Mizuki.

"It's obviously the Kinomoto family," sighed Tomoyo.

"And it's before Sakura was even born," said Hanged-Touya maliciously. "So don't go hoping for a sight of her."

They weren't the only observers of this happy family. Off to the side, leaning against a tree, was Sonomi.

"Unlike a certain someone I could mention," Hanged-Touya added.

Sonomi clearly didn't want to be there. She had her arms crossed defensively in front, her face shuttered from the excitement of the festival.

A man detached himself from the crowds and went over to Sonomi. He kept to the shadows so it was impossible to see his face.

"May I join you?" he said.

The moment he spoke, Tomoyo knew who he was. His voice was warm and deep like a cello, activating some kind of genetic imprint or perhaps a long forgotten childhood memory. She was absolutely certain that he was her father.

This must have been where he and her mother first met.

Despite the circumstances, Tomoyo felt a stab of excitement. Here was a chance to find out more about him, more about herself.

"Never listen," Hanged-Touya tutted. Tomoyo ignored him and kept an eye on the people under the tree.

"Beat it, buddy," snarled Sonomi. "I'm not interested."

Her father chuckled. "Don't be so hasty. I may be able to mend your broken heart."

"My heart is just fine," said Sonomi, but her eyes strayed to Nadeshiko who, together with her son, was force-feeding ice creams to Fujitaka.

"It doesn't feel fine." He stepped closer. Sonomi flinched but held her ground. "It feels as if something has been ripped out, and all that is left is a gaping hole. A void so deep and dark, with winds that howl endlessly."

Touya accidentally stuck an ice cream up Fujitaka's nose; the sound of Nadeshiko's laughter filled the festival. Sonomi closed her eyes.

Tomoyo's father, still in the shadows, murmured in her ear. "I can fill that void, if you let me."

Then everything went dark, even the fireflies.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Black ebbed away, and Tomoyo found herself still on the swing, the visitors on either side. The fog had gotten thicker, more clammy, a wet and clinging blanket with no warmth at all.

"Was there a lesson in all of that?" Tomoyo said sullenly.

"There's a lesson in everything," Hanged-Touya patronised. "Look, you say that you've given up on Sakura, but you haven't, not really. Because deep down you're still clinging to the hope that things will go back to the way they were. It's completely selfish, but hey, you're human, you can't help it." He paused and thought a bit. "To give up someone completely, you have to surrender everything, even the possibility."

"Your mother couldn't see that." Death-Mizuki moved to stand by her compatriot.

"Yes," Hanged-Touya conceded, "and because of this others had to suffer."

"You don't want to add to the suffering, do you, Tomoyo-chan?" Death-Mizuki beseeched.

Tomoyo didn't answer. With a flick of her scythe Death-Mizuki cut the rope that anchored Hanged-Touya to the swing and they fell into the fog.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

It was just a hunch that sent Eriol to the park. Some innate desire for fun and happiness, in the way plants always strive towards the light. It was understandable, especially on a day as gloomy as this.

He weaved his way through the fog at random, trees and benches suddenly looming into view. He walked aimlessly, stopping sometimes to wipe his misted glasses. And then he saw her.

She sat on the swing, her hands folded in her lap, her head cast down; a shadow on a cloud. He slowly walked up to her, hoping she wouldn't be alarmed.

"Daidouji-san?" he said tentatively.

She said nothing, didn't make a sound and didn't make a move. As he stepped closer she exploded into pinpoints of light, they sparkled off her dress and hair, turning her into a child of the Milky Way. He realised that these earthbound stars were just beads on her dress and water droplets in her hair, but that didn't make her any less ethereal.

Eriol knelt down in front of her. "Daidouji-san?" he said again.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

He kept his voice soft. "I had to make sure you were safe."

She gave a short laugh. "I thought that was what you're friends were for."

She handed him two cards, which he took cautiously. The first was labelled Death and sported the archetype, hooded black robe, scythe and hourglass, but instead of a grinning skull the face of Kaho smiled back. The second had an upside-down Kinomoto Touya and was labelled 'The Hanged Man'.

Eriol flung the cards to the side. "Daidouji-san, I'm not responsible for this," he said earnestly.

She shook her head violently, droplets scattering everywhere. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"No," she shouted. "Because if you're not doing this, then who is? At least if it was you then I could ask you to stop. Please, Hiiragizawa, I'm begging you. Stop this."

"I can't, Daidouji. I wish I could but I can't."

She bit her lip, stifling a sob, as the whole hopelessness of the situation came crashing down on her.

He took her hand. "Things may look bad now, but I know you're strong enough and brave enough to withstand this," said Eriol with reassurance. "You don't need me to be your knight in shining armour."

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. That action forced her to look at him, and he saw that her eyes were swimming with stars.

Eriol continued, "But if you want someone to stay beside you, to never leave you, no matter how dark the road may be, then I ask you, Daidouji-san, may it be I?"

A star fell down her cheek. Eriol caught it with a finger and made a wish. Everything seemed to stand still as if the world was holding its breath, awaiting Tomoyo's decision.

She leant forward and kissed him gently on the forehead. And in the dark midnight of his hair another star landed, a promise of things to come.


	8. Justice & The Wheel of Fortune

**Disclaimer: **_Insert standard disclaimer here._

**The Tomoeda Arcana **

**Chapter Seven: Justice and The Wheel of Fortune**

Tomoyo woke behind closed lids, a slow creeping awareness, like breaching the surface after a very long dive. She curled herself tighter, not wanting to face the day.

But she knew it was useless; she couldn't hide in sleep forever. She grudgingly opened her eyes.

The curtains had been left closed, but enough light seeped around the edges for her to see by. She took in the emerald green quilt she was lying on and the blue waffle-weave blanket she clutched possessively. The headboard stretched to a bedside lamp and an old-fashioned alarm clock, the bells just a melted clump of brass.

Hang on. Didn't she have a digital clock?

She sat up. This wasn't her room. This wasn't her bed. Those weren't her curtains and she certainly didn't have Alphonse Mucha prints on her walls.

Tomoyo pulled the blanket closer as the events of last night came flooding back. She remembered the park, the swings, Hiiragizawa finding her. She remembered that Ruby Moon and Spinel had arrived sometime after and carried her here. Yes here, wherever that was. She hadn't wanted to go home.

She had been half asleep through the entire journey. She dimly remembered dark passages and hushed voices; the spicy scent of Akizuki-san's hair flooding her senses. Someone, Hiiragizawa-kun probably, had said that she could sleep here, that she would be safe. She must have sighed, sobbed or made some sort of sound when he was about to leave the room, because he had rushed to her side instantly and promised that he would stay. She had fallen asleep wrapped in arms and a strange feeling that she had been here before.

Tomoyo rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked blankly around the room, startling herself when she caught her reflection in the mirror. With exasperation that she ever got into such a state, she left the bed and made an attempt at tidying herself up. She brushed at her dress, the beads rough against her palms, and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Acknowledging that she couldn't do anything more, she left the room – but not before carefully folding the blanket and straightening the quilt.

Tomoyo paused at the foot of the stairs, unsure of what to do next. To the left she could smell the scent of freshly baked bread (which sent her stomach growling), while to the right she heard the murmur of voices. Her appetite and her curiosity waged a short but brutal battle, the latter emerging victorious. She walked softly towards the voices, her stomach grumbling with annoyance.

The voices got clearer with every step. Tomoyo stopped just beside the open doorway, her hand resting against the wood-paneled wall to steady herself.

"I don't like this picture of Touya-kun at all," one voice pouted. Akizuki-san.

"I thought you'd appreciate having him all tied up." This voice was more refined; dark and peaty like a fine whisky. Spinel-san.

"It's not that," said Akizuki-san, "it's his expression."

"What? He looks like his usual grumpy self."

Akizuki-san was outraged. "He is _not_ grumpy, Suppi-chan."

"Well he doesn't exactly smile much either," Spinel pointed out.

"That's because he's pining for me," Akizuki-san said dreamily, "His lost love."

Spinel started coughing, though it sounded suspiciously like "Crazy, crazy."

"Did you say something, Suppi-chan?"

"Nope," Spinel coughed. "Hairball, thousand pardons." Expertly diverting the conversation he said, "This picture of Mizuki-sensei is quite nice."

"You think?" said Akizuki-san. "I reckon it makes her look kind of mean. And those robes," she scoffed, "they do nothing for her figure. You wouldn't catch me dead in those."

"You would have to be Death to be in those," said Spinel, smug at his turn of phrase.

"Ha, ha, Suppi-chan. Very clever," said a sarcastic Akizuki-san. Her voice turned lively again. "So, master, what's the secret behind these cards?"

"I don't know," this new voice was bleak, not the source of comfort it had been last night.

"Oooh," Akizuki-san cooed. "Then it must be a really big secret if even you don't know." There was a pause. "Nah, I don't believe it. Tell us the truth."

"That is the truth. I really don't know." There was a slight ruffle, like someone throwing up their arms in defeat. "They're just cards: standard ink, standard paper. Based on the Major Arcana of the Tarot. Using faces of people I know, or rather Daidouji-san knows. There's nothing evil about them."

"Oh, they're evil." Tomoyo's soft but determined voice was like a thunderclap. Spinel shot into the air, while Akizuki-san and Hiiragizawa-kun turned around to face her.

"Daidouji-san," said Hiiragizawa-kun from his place on the couch. "I thought you would still be asleep."

Akizuki-san left the side of the coffee table and bustled over to Tomoyo. "You must be hungry, Tomoyo-chan. I'll get you something to eat."

"You don't have to," Tomoyo said.

"It's no trouble," Akizuki-san assured with a smile and breezed out the door. Spinel followed, taking time to give Tomoyo a warm brush on the shoulder.

Tomoyo was left alone with Hiiragizawa-kun. She walked slowly around the lounge, he following every step, and sat down at the other end, satin cushions and a suede expanse separating her and him. She allowed her hair to fall forward: another obstacle to overcome.

"You really don't know what it is," Tomoyo stated.

Hiiragizawa shifted slightly. "I'm sorry."

The two cards gleamed balefully at them from the coffee table.

Tomoyo tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to Hiiragizawa-kun. "Maybe it would help if I told you the whole story."

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

And she did just that.

She started with the Fool card and then all the other visitors, up to the latest two on the swing. She mentioned how they always took the form of people she knew and always seemed to know so much about her. The visitors had been getting more and more frequent: the last three incidents had occurred in the course of three days. In the beginning they had just been content to talk, but now they were providing flashbacks, snapshots of the past.

And they always left a card.

Now that she had started talking, she found that she couldn't stop. These card people had brought up feelings that she had thought she had dealt with, or a least buried deep.

The pain of losing Sakura was as keen as ever.

She felt stuck, trapped. It was as if she was standing at the bottom of a very deep well, the surface just a dim star high above. She didn't think she would ever get out.

When she finished, she had leapt off the couch, saying that she had better go home; she had taken up too much of his time already. A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, staying her flight. He said he would come with her, to see these other cards. But that would have to wait till after breakfast; it was dangerous to leave Nakuru and Spinel alone with maple syrup.

She never thought that she would smile again, but she managed a small one.

It was a start.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

"Well, it could be worse," said Eriol.

"How could it possibly be any worse?" Tomoyo whirled on him with amazement.

Her bedroom was like the inside of a snow globe. The window had been left slightly open and so a breeze had snuck in, sending the scraps of material and tape flying through the air. A piece of gabardine danced by, following a floral print.

Eriol went cross-eyed when some yellow tulle landed on his nose. "It could be on fire," he answered.

"I wish. At least that way I wouldn't have to clean it." Tomoyo scampered to the window and closed it with a thud. The remnants of destruction stopped their party immediately.

Tomoyo turned back to the room and waved towards her bedside table. "The rest are in that box over there."

Eriol picked his way across the room, careful not to step on any pieces of clothing (the intact ones at least).

"Why you didn't destroy your uniform when you had the chance," Eriol shook his head, "I'll never know."

Eriol opened the box and took out the cards. He fanned the pack and neatly slotted the two that he had brought with him. Nope, still ordinary if slightly blurry cards. He thought it apt that Nakuru was the devil, and he chuckled at the sight of Clow Reed in a jester costume (he couldn't help himself). There were eleven cards here; the Major Arcana had twenty-two, so theoretically they were only half way through.

"If you weren't responsible for…that lot, then what were these for?"

Eriol looked up at her question. Tomoyo had started to rearrange all the clothes she had thrown on the floor. She had paused at a snowy white shirt, the lower hem flipped over, revealing a tiny black sun.

"Oh," Eriol said sheepishly, "you found them."

"Entirely by accident." She began folding and asked again. "What are they for?"

"They're just markers, homing beacons. I just needed to know where you were."

"So they don't cause hallucinations or things like that?"

"No, Daidouji-san." He returned the cards to their box and placed it back on the table. "There were just to make sure you were safe."

"Safe?" She gripped the shirt, sending creases through the fabric. "So you knew that something bad was going to happen?"

"Yes."

She threw the shirt to the floor. "Then why didn't you tell me?" she shouted.

"Would you've believed me?" he found himself shouting back. "And besides, I didn't want to alarm you."

"I think alarm would have been much better than what I've been through recently!"

"I know that now!"

They stared at each other, the gulf between them so much wider than a meter of carpet.

"I may be a magician, Daidouji, but I'm still human," Eriol said softly. "I can still make mistakes."

"You said you had to stay in Tomoeda for someone," Tomoyo said just as gently. "Was that me?"

"Yes." He reached out and removed a cobweb of lace that was trapped in her hair, a pitiful attempt to bridge this gap.

She didn't move away. Instead she reached up herself and caught his hand, twining her fingers with his.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who's suppose to do that."

"No. If it wasn't for me you'd be in England. You'd have your own life. Instead you're here, watching over me."

"So for once I get to play the hero. Indulge me," Eriol requested.

"If you're the hero, then what does that make me?" Tomoyo scoffed. "Damsel in Distress?"

"I was thinking Plucky Sidekick."

She smirked. "Then I better get started on our costumes. I think I've got some pink chiffon left over from last time."

"You'd look cute in pink," Eriol approved.

"I was thinking for you," Tomoyo pointed out.

"I don't wear pink," he said adamantly.

"It's more salmon, really," she said thoughtfully.

"I don't wear fish either."

And the chasm that had begun to yawn between them was suddenly closed by laughter and clasped hands.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

Eriol was stuck cleaning the media room. On his own because Tomoyo had decided that it was about time she changed her clothes. Heroes were quite capable of cleaning all by themselves, and sidekicks deserved the occasional hot bath. When she left Eriol shouted that they should renegotiate the contract.

As he surveyed the room, black tape crawling over every surface, shards of cassette crunching with every step, he debated with himself about using magic. But Eriol the Martyr was strong today and he decided to do this all by hand, that'll show Daidouji-san. It would be like the Twelve Labors of Hercules, the one where he cleans the stables.

He had just thrown the last reel into the garbage bag when Tomoyo popped her head around the door.

"Finished?" she said sweetly.

Eriol stood up and gestured around the now spotless room. Even the sewing basket was neatly positioned on the sofa. "Does my lady find this satisfactory?"

"Good," Tomoyo said with approval as she looked under the furniture for any pieces Eriol may have missed. "Now you can help me with my bedroom." She darted back inside. With a bowed head, Eriol followed her.

"Maybe we should just set it on fire," muttered Eriol.

"Just get to work, my hero." Tomoyo dropped to the floor and started to fish out the scraps that huddled underneath her desk.

Eriol knelt down beside her and gathered up a handful of fabric.

"Watch the glass!" Tomoyo warned.

Eriol froze, just beside his hand was a wicked looking piece of crystal. Other pieces glimmered nearby, looking just like frozen tears. Dozens of pink flowers were scattered all around. Tomoyo delicately picked up one of the blooms.

"Mother is going to be so mad."

"I could fix this, if you want," Eriol offered.

Tomoyo didn't answer straight away. "No, it's best if I face this." She resolutely put the flower in with the other rubbish, a small tattered bag followed soon after.

They worked together in companionable silence till Tomoyo suddenly asked, "Aren't we suppose to be in school?"

"I called and said that we were sick."

"And they believed you?" Tomoyo was uncertain.

"I sounded amazingly convincing," Eriol said smugly, like he was hiding something. Seeing that Tomoyo still wasn't satisfied he decided to come clean. "I'm quite adept at imitations, if I do say so myself. But we better go tomorrow or they might come and visit."

Mystery solved, they went back to their cleaning.

They stopped again when they heard noises coming from the media room. Eriol got up and crept towards the doorway, motioning for her to stay put. Tomoyo ignored him and followed right behind. They peered inside.

There were two giant butterflies floating in the room and they were playing with…

"Get away from that," Eriol shouted and stalked forward. "I don't want to clean this room again." He snatched the rubbish bag from these interlopers and made sure it hadn't been punctured.

"Touchy, touchy," mocked one of the butterflies, or rather owner of the butterfly wings. Spinel Sun in his panther form stood before them, tail lashing like a whip.

"Why is he even here, anyway?" said the second butterfly: Ruby Moon in the sequined evening gown of a game show hostess. He perched himself on the armrest and studied his nails.

"Because _she_ wants him here," Spinel tilted his head towards Tomoyo, sending the tiny set of scales in his ear swaying.

Ruby Moon huffed with contempt. "That'll change."

Tomoyo went to stand beside Eriol. "So do you know what they are?" she whispered into his ear.

Eriol knew what they weren't: they weren't magic that's for sure. And since magic only effects magic, hurling a fireball at them would be useless. When he extended all his senses towards them he encountered nothing, literally nothing; his mind shied away from the very thought. These creatures were the dark between the stars, absolute zero, the space between the worlds of creation.

"They're trouble," he could only reply.

Ruby Moon's doppelganger looked up from his nails. "Had a good look, handsome?"

Spinel Sun slunk past them. "Perhaps we should give them something to look at." He stopped within the doorway and called over his shoulder, "Coming?"

Ruby Moon flared his wings and shepherded Eriol and Tomoyo towards the bedroom.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

It was a nursery, or rather it was suppose to be a nursery, instead it looked like the baby section of a toy store. A cot the size of a single bed stood to one side, camouflaged by dozens of soft-toys. A giant tiger loomed in one corner, practically life-like except for that goofy grin on its face. The walls had been painted with pictures of fairies and cuddly animals. Eriol's teeth were starting to melt from the sugariness of it all.

The nursery wasn't deserted, however. Sitting under the window, playing with a small sheep, was a little girl.

Faux Ruby Moon spun into the room, buttery light flashing off his sequins. "Would you look at all this stuff," he said with amazement.

Tomoyo wasn't paying attention. She had hesitantly walked over to the little girl and had dropped cautiously to the floor in front of her. She quietly studied the long black hair, the extremely pale skin, the dark lashes that rimmed purple eyes.

Eriol perched himself on the nearby windowsill. "You've hardly changed at all."

Tomoyo didn't answer: it isn't everyday that you encounter your younger self.

Spinel Sun had prowled his way to the giant tiger and was now boxing it playfully on the nose. "Just you wait. The show's not over yet," he said cryptically.

Suddenly the door that led to the hallway flung open and in barged two ladies (neither of them seemed to have noticed the gatecrashers). A subdued Sonomi followed soon after.

"It's gorgeous, Sonomi-san," said one of the women, the one who wore a light pink business suit.

"It's positively heavenly," the other cooed. She flipped her yellow scarf over her shoulder, completely oblivious to the imitations of Ruby Moon.

The women started to flit through the room, singing the praises of everything from the carpet to the light fittings. Sonomi leaned against the doorjamb, content to let the fashion police inspect the nursery.

Then the women finally spotted Tomoyo.

"Such a pretty child," said the buttercup lady.

"She's so adorable," added the strawberry one. "Sonomi-san, you must be so proud."

Buttercup clutched at Strawberry's arm and stage whispered, "She looks remarkably like Nadeshiko-chan, no?"

"It's the hair," Strawberry replied knowingly. "Nadeshiko-chan always wore her hair like that."

"She still does." Sonomi had decided to join the conversation.

"Does she now?" Strawberry wondered. "You've seen her recently? I heard she hasn't been feeling well. Poor thing."

"Just around town," Sonomi said vaguely, not wishing to talk about Nadeshiko's health.

Strawberry was scandalized. "Better not let Grandfather hear about that. He would not be pleased." She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Ever since she ran off with that teacher, our Nadeshiko-chan is practically dead to him."

Throughout this exchange, Buttercup had kept on scrutinizing Tomoyo. "It's a pity her hair is so dark, Sonomi-san. Then we would have a miniature Nadeshiko-chan with us."

"We should blame her father for that," sulked Strawberry. "Where is that husband of yours anyway, Sonomi?"

"Out," was Sonomi's short answer.

"I wonder..." said Buttercup, still fixed on the young Tomoyo.

Buttercup walked over to one of the shelves and gathered a handful of toys. Tomoyo looked up with curiosity but otherwise made no other move. Buttercup then proceeded to carefully scatter them all over the floor, filling the distance between Tomoyo and her mother with brightly colored bundles. She then rejoined her companions.

"Tomoyo-chan," Buttercup called. "Little Nadeshiko, come here little Nadeshiko."

Keeping a firm grip on her sheep, Tomoyo slowly got to her feet and started to toddle towards her mother. The onlooker Tomoyo reached out a hand in some halfhearted attempt to stop herself. When the young Tomoyo got to the first toy, a wooden turtle with wheels instead of legs, she stopped and carefully stepped over it. She did the same for the life-like baby deer, and the porcelain doll, and all the other toys after that. When she finally reached the women she smiled at them in triumph and lifted up her arms for a hug.

Buttercup turned to Strawberry. "Did you see that?"

"I know."

"Didn't even trip once."

"Our Nadeshiko-chan wouldn't have even made it past the teddy bear."

"Our Nadeshiko-chan wouldn't have made it off the floor."

Still ignoring Tomoyo, the women spun Sonomi around and marched her out the room. "Sonomi-san, we must tell you about our plans for the summer…" The door clicked shut behind them.

Seeing that she wasn't going to get a hug after all Tomoyo let her arms drop to her sides. Little Tomoyo turned around and tottered back to her place under the window, expertly negotiating the obstacle course just like before. The older Tomoyo welcomed her by reaching out and gently brushing her hair.

Spinel, who had been completely forgotten during the whole performance, had crept up to Tomoyo's shoulder to whisper into her ear, "You were always a poor replacement."

The younger Tomoyo lifted her eyes for some reason, and for the briefest moment Tomoyo was staring across the years; she couldn't tell if the loneliness that she saw was an echo of the past or a reflection of the present.

And then Little Tomoyo vanished, taking the nursery and the card people with her.

**WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwW**

The recently departed visitors stared up from the carpet, surrounded by patches of linen and satin; Spinel Sun above the words 'The Justice' and Ruby Moon above 'The Wheel of Fortune'.

"You're right," said Tomoyo, still seated on the floor. "I haven't changed at all."

"What do you mean?" Eriol allowed himself to slide down the wall.

"This loneliness," she explained. "It's nothing new. I've always had it."

Eriol plucked the new cards off the carpet and tossed them onto the bed; out of sight out of mind he figured.

"Loneliness does have its uses," said Eriol.

"How can something so sad be useful?"

"Because it makes us reach out to others. It makes us want to touch the lives of others, so that they can touch our own."

"That seems selfish."

"Sometimes we have to be selfish." He studied her for a moment. "We are all searching for someone, Daidouji-san."

"I thought the person I was searching for was Sakura," she said glumly. "How wrong I was," she added bitterly and let her hair fall forward, to hide herself again.

Eriol snapped his fingers. All the scraps of material started to twitch and slowly levitate off the floor. They bunched together and swirled in the air, like a shoal of fish or flock of starlings. They swept under the bed, gathering up more pieces, and circled the bedpost before congealing into a blob that burst into a rain of sparks.

Something dropped onto Tomoyo's head.

"Ow," she protested, "what was that for?"

"Knock the gloominess out of you," Eriol chuckled. "And I wasn't in the mood for anymore cleaning."

Tomoyo grabbed the object so she could throw it back at him, but she stopped when she realized what it was. It was a toy sheep, but instead of a white fleece it was clothed in scraps of velvet and lace and cotton; all the battle costumes she had made and ruined were packed in this tiny toy.

As she stroked a tartan ear, Eriol said, "Something can always be made from the most awful of situations."


End file.
